As Nigerians, we’ve all heard the saying “na money be fine bobo,” and it lives in our heads subconsciously. We try to make the most out of any extra we get. Whether it’s a shirt you’ve always wanted to buy or a new food you’ve always wanted to try, the culture of splurging when you have extra income is embedded in our genes.
I remember the first time the alert came in. ₦800,000. It felt surreal; I remember staring at it and thinking to myself, “Is this really what it feels like to be rich? After years of job-hopping and freelancing, I finally had a salary that not only felt like I could breathe for the first time but also could stretch across paying rent and all the major things I’d ever dreamed of doing.
Within weeks, I moved into a mini flat in Lekki Phase 1. Not because I needed to, but because it fit the new version of me I intentionally was going to curate. I bought a new iPhone, hired a stylist, and restocked my wardrobe, as if I were rebranding for a launch. New and expensive perfumes, frequenting the exclusive Lagos designers, new gaming gadgets – the works. I started calling it “investing in myself.”
I was ordering takeout frequently from restaurants around town. Chowdeck and Glovo hated to see me coming. I, all of a sudden, became too busy to cook, and honestly, I can’t say what came over me. This was something I could easily do even with the demands of my previous job. Lagos is performance art, and I was front row and center. I liked the way people looked at me when I walked into restaurants with my colleagues, all put together and polished, like I had things figured out. But the truth? I couldn’t even figure out where my money was going, and this went on for months.
I wasn’t saving, had no budget, and didn’t even check my balance until my card started declining. In the first few months, I assumed I just needed time to adjust. But then, it became a routine. Once my salary came in, my sense of reasoning went straight out the window.
It all crashed on a random Saturday.
I was home, hungry, and opened my bank app to see ₦3,200. I hadn’t bought groceries. My stylist had just sent me a ₦70K invoice for a new look I didn’t even like that much. Rent was six weeks away. I felt like a fraud. The money was supposed to change my life, but I was still stressed and still broke, just in a better apartment with nicer clothes.
That day, something shifted. I didn’t have a dramatic breakdown or sudden clarity; I just got tired. I moved out of Lekki to a quieter place in Lagos Island, closer even to where I worked. Saved ₦300K in rent instantly. I cut off the stylist. Started doing my own shopping and cooking again, not because I wanted to “suffer,” but because I couldn’t keep pretending.
I created a Google Sheet and started tracking everything. The first rule I gave myself? Save at least ₦50K on the day the salary dropped, no matter what. I used the expense tracker on the Stellas App to stay accountable and had a better and more grounded understanding of what was coming in and what was going out. I started saying no to dinners and deleted Instagram for a while. It was hard, and honestly, I felt less “put together,” but slowly, I started feeling in control again. I got enrolled in an investment course a good friend of mine recommended, and I have to admit I’m excited for the journey of knowledge ahead.
People think money problems come from not earning enough. Sometimes, it’s not that. Sometimes, the money is fine, but your mindset is broken. That was me. I had to unlearn the shame of not looking like I had it all together while building for the future and still being okay.
Your Money Story Matters
From stretching ₦100K in Lagos to recovering from lifestyle inflation, each story within the Money Moves series is a snapshot of survival, growth, and honesty with money.
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