Going bankrupt, pesticide-free

Though my refrigerator was stocked with wilted spinach and smelly plastic containers filled with organic concoctions of chili, potato stew and other stuff I'd forgotten about, I was still shocked to realize last week that I'd almost over-drafted my bank account by spending too much on vegetables -- $150 for groceries in a week.

The moldy food in my fridge is an icon of my idealism, and the cause of my recent economic downfall.

Two years ago I picked up the "vegetarian" label. For critics who stereotype this move: I've remained reletively autonomous -- just because I'm vegetarian doesn't mean I've all of a sudden become an earth-muffin. The thought of replacing my extensive shoe collection with only one pair of Birkenstocks scares me.

But I'll admit the label categorizes me. And despite my cringing at being a complete "free spirit," I'm not exactly in the same realm as more famous vegetarians: Reese Witherspoon, Drew Barrymore and Cameron Diaz. Unfortunately for me, our similarities (light hair and meat-free fare) don't outweigh our differences (millionaire superstars versus poor college student with delusions of grandeur). The fact that I've stuck to my ethical guns on the issue and moved into the realm of being a self-proclaimed "veggie snot" has also made me broke. The key word here is broke.

I only buy organic veggies, which is what led to the whole overspending thing in the first place. I can justify buying a $3 organic apple, because even though it's more likely to have spots, the taste is sweeter and there's less damage to the earth.

It's become this self-righteous feeling: I am doing a wonderful thing by spending my entire paycheck on organic cheese puffs, fair-trade chocolate bars and organic, wheat-free cracked-grain rolls. Whenever I walk into Puget Consumers Co-op (PCC) (or any other place selling organic food) I am overcome with the feeling that I, one little human, can save the world by choosing what I eat.

I mean, if I don't pollute (by buying organic and not owning a car), don't willingly support underpaid developing-country workers (by buying fair-trade goods) and don't support animal cruelty (no meat), then basically I'm living the right way, right?

Except for the fact that I'm spending all my money on edible (albeit ethical) commodities, and haven't accounted for the expense of my moral expenditures, (nor found the time to check exactly how much I'm spending on miscellaneous things like grapes (according to one receipt, $6), it's great that my idealism has become a subconscious process. If anyone has a better (cheaper) idea on how I can save the world, I usually shop at PCC on Wednesday afternoons.

Organic veggies can cost up to three times the price of non-infected veggies. And I'm beginning to think the only one feeling the impact of my good deeds is me, in the form of generous donations to my stomach.

But hey, until the day that I make as much money as my ass-kicking, veggie-eating superstar counterparts, the organic craze that is keeping my body beautiful and the earth happy is a sad day for my finances. I'm quickly going bankrupt -- pesticide-free.