Receipt Required: My Mother's $2.50 Tyranny

My mother, terrified I’d mismanage my college living expenses, demanded a daily, itemized expense report. When I bought a one-dollar bagel from a campus cart and couldn’t provide a receipt, she immediately slashed my monthly allowance from $500 to $250. "I only accept printed, itemized receipts. No receipt means you're embezzling money. Don't even think about hiding a secret stash." "If you dare try to scam me out of a dollar with an un-receipted bagel today, you'll try to scam me out of my entire retirement fund tomorrow." I spent every day buried in receipts, comparing prices, and doing accounting. I failed all my midterms and was practically drained of life. In despair, with trembling hands, I sent a text to the guy who was currently pursuing me—a senior whose family owned a chain of supermarkets: [Senior, let's date. As long as you can get me any receipt I need.] 01 [I’ve told you how many times now? I do not accept handwritten receipts. Even if you sent me a selfie with the street vendor, it’s useless. How do I know if you actually bought a one-dollar bagel? I only accept printed, itemized machine receipts.] [Stop trying to play smart with me. Your living expenses for this month are cut in half. From five hundred down to two hundred and fifty.] On the other end of the phone, my mother's voice dropped like a judge's gavel. One strike, and she pronounced my death sentence right then and there. A monthly allowance of $250. For a college student living in New York City, it left me frozen in place. Here, the cheapest basic meal at the dining hall—just rice and a side of veggies—costs $8. To save money, I had been eating plain bread dipped in hot sauce for half a month straight. I didn't even dare to look at the skincare and makeup my female classmates loved to buy, things that easily cost hundreds of dollars. When my face got so dry it peeled, I just used a 50-cent packet of generic baby lotion. New clothes were a luxury I couldn't even dream of. Right now, the $1 clearance bagel I had managed to grab didn't even taste good anymore. To get this clearance bagel, I had lined up at 5:30 AM. Because this was the only breakfast I could find that was both cheap and actually had some meat in it. Unfortunately, there was no receipt. To prove I had indeed bought the bagel, I sent my mom a photo of me with the vendor. But my mom didn't accept it. Because my mom demanded a receipt for every single expense. She would audit my accounts randomly. If the amount I spent didn't perfectly match the amount on the receipt... She would implement a "fake one, fine ten" policy. For every dollar missing, ten dollars would be deducted from next month's allowance. My original monthly allowance of $500 was already stretching me thin. If it got cut any further, I truly wouldn't be able to survive. [Mom, a $250 allowance is nowhere near enough. Can you please just give me the $500 we agreed on? I promise I'll get a receipt next time I buy something.] My mom's rejection popped up immediately: [Absolutely not. A mistake is a mistake. You're a college student in a big city far from home. If I don't strictly control your living expenses, what if you go wild?] [My money doesn't grow on trees. Don't even think about wasting a single cent of mine.] Classmates around me were heading towards a food truck selling hot dogs. A girl turned around and called out to me: "Chloe, come on! Their crepes and hot dogs are huge and delicious." I shook my head, turned, and went into the convenience store next door that could print receipts. I bought a $3 loaf of bread that was nearing its expiration date. "Don't mind her, she's a precious rich girl. She never eats street food. She's not like us peasants!" "What is she pretending to be poor for? Isn't that a clearance bagel from a street cart in her hand? She's so weird. Even when she goes to the supermarket, she buys the cheapest clearance stuff. That dry, crusty bread costs more than our crepes. She's got rocks in her head." I lowered my head, crumpling the $3 receipt in my hand. Then, terrified, I quickly smoothed the receipt out, afraid my mom would deduct more of my allowance. Was I angry? Probably. But mostly, I felt humiliated. However, saving face meant nothing to me right now, because tonight was this month's receipt accounting day. It was the "Judgment Day" that made me tremble with anxiety every single month. It determined exactly how much allowance I would get next month. 02 In the dorm, my roommates were already cheering about receiving their allowance for the upcoming month. "Yay! My dad transferred me $3,000 this month, a thousand more than last month. He said it's getting hot, so I should buy some watermelon and ice cream, and not get heatstroke. Hehe, I'm treating everyone to BBQ tonight!" I looked at the box filled with a pile of shopping receipts, stayed silent for a moment, and declined my roommate's invitation. I had to organize my receipts to get next month's allowance. Plus, I couldn't even afford to buy tampons with proper packaging. How could I possibly pay someone back for BBQ? That night, taking advantage of the time my roommates were out at dinner. I quickly turned on my desk lamp and took out dozens of receipts: A $1 pack of tissues, a $2 bottle of water, a $3 pen... Following my mom's requirements, I sent them all to her. By the time I finished, it was two hours later. Sweat from my face dripped down my chin onto my shirt. I tried to wipe it with the back of my hand, but there was more and more of it. It wasn't until I saw myself in the mirror that I realized... They were tears. But at 5 AM the next day, I was woken up by a barrage of messages from my mom. [Chloe, what is wrong with you? This transaction receipt just says 'Daily Necessities'. Did you buy something shady behind my back? Haha, trying to get me to reimburse you for hooking up with some random guy. I'm not a sucker!] The receipt my mom was talking about was for a $2.50 pack of clearance tampons. They were on a promotional sale, so it didn't list the specific item. $2.50. Was that enough for a mother to spread nasty rumors about her own daughter? My fingertips trembled, and the next message popped up. [And how is this bottle of water 50 cents more expensive! The one you bought at the supermarket next door last time was 50 cents cheaper. Are you blind? You don't even know how to compare prices, you idiot!] But I had gotten heatstroke that day and fainted in front of that supermarket. The kind owner gave me water to drink. I bought it out of gratitude. I put down my phone and stared blankly without moving. I felt like I couldn't breathe. Thinking about the allowance I hadn't received yet, I tremblingly started typing an explanation. But I had only typed half of it. My mom's message came through: [Your receipt pasting is a mess, and your accounting is a disaster. I'm deducting another $70. I'm giving you $180. $6 a day won't starve you to death. Let this be a lesson to you!] Following that was a bright red Venmo transfer notification wishing me "Good Luck and Prosperity." The color of the transfer was exceptionally festive. But I felt like I had descended into hell. 03 It was 102 degrees outside, and the dorm was sweltering. But I felt freezing cold, so cold I felt like I had turned into an ice sculpture, unable to move a muscle. But my mom still wouldn't let me go. My phone vibrated again. She sent a PDF file titled "Allowance Usage Guidelines." It was ten pages long. I sniffled and haphazardly wiped away my tears with the back of my hand. With trembling fingers, I scrolled through it: Every receipt must be signed with a 0.5mm black gel pen to ensure it was my own purchase. After a purchase, it must be uploaded and confirmed by a parent within 24 hours. If it exceeds the time limit, double the receipt amount will be deducted from next month's allowance. On the 1st of every month, a monthly consumption budget must be submitted, precise to the day and the meal. All consumption vouchers, receipts, and payment screenshots must be retained and sent to a parent for review every day. The purchase of any "non-essential items" is strictly prohibited, including boba tea, snacks, clothing, cosmetics, etc. Participation in any paid entertainment activities is strictly prohibited, such as: Dining out, watching movies, celebrating holidays, concerts. Only after the conditions are audited and approved will the corresponding amount of allowance be disbursed. If there are any violation consumption items... The corresponding amount will be deducted, or the allowance will be suspended! My vision went black in waves, and my head ached like ten thousand needles were piercing it. I felt like I was going to die. I even thought that maybe dying would be a release. These things my mom sent... wasn't she just trying to drive me to my death? Perhaps my mom also realized how excessive these conditions were. She sent another message: [Chloe, Mom is doing all this for your own good. I want to help you establish correct financial values and be a good kid. Besides, our family's financial situation isn't good. Your dad and I just make a fixed salary. You have to understand my good intentions, right?] My mom's words blocked all the accusations building up in my heart at my lips. Leaving me unable to say a single word. I exited the chat window with my mom, intending to turn off my phone, but my finger accidentally slipped. I accidentally tapped on it and saw my mom's profile picture in the "Stories" section. How could this be? Mom never posts stories. I quickly clicked to look and saw that my mom had posted a grid of nine daily life photos. She had bought a $50,000 designer bag, and she even had two of the same style in different colors. Mom captioned the photos: [The joy of a mere $100,000.] She was also eating at a high-end restaurant with my dad. The caption on that photo read: [Having this every week, getting kind of sick of it. Does anyone have any restaurant recommendations? Must be over $1,000 per person~] When I tried to look again, the story was gone. I suddenly remembered that my mom always said our family was poor. I had told her I could apply for financial aid and student loans. At the time, my mom refused, giving the grand excuse that we should leave the opportunity to those who truly needed it. Looking at it now, the reason she wouldn't let me apply... Was because our family's financial situation was actually very good! She gave me so little allowance and set such harsh conditions... Just because she wanted to control me. My mom's message came through again. [Why aren't you saying anything? You haven't accepted the transfer either. Do you not want your allowance?] [Chloe, you're an adult now. Mom doing this is just to make you responsible for your own spending. The 24-hour rule is to improve your efficiency and fix your bad habit of procrastinating. Those boba teas and snacks are just garbage that make you fat and harm your body. And those parties, that's not socializing, that's wasting time eating, drinking, and playing around. Remember, your parents' money doesn't grow on trees, and it's certainly not for you to squander!] I looked at the message I hadn't sent yet: [Our family is obviously very rich. Why do you treat me like this!] After thinking about it, I deleted it bit by bit. I hadn't taken a screenshot of my mom's story; I had no proof. Once I rebelled, my situation would likely get even worse. The $180 allowance left me with no way out, and no strength to fight back. I silently accepted the transfer, praying in my heart that if I met my mom's demands, next month's allowance might be a little higher. Even if it just went back to $500, that would be fine. But I never expected that my temporary endurance would lead to my true descent into the abyss. 04 My mind was no longer on studying. I was constantly calculating in my head: how much money do I have left, and how can I spend it? Several times in class, I brought the wrong textbook. But I didn't dare lose or mix up a single shopping receipt. Because I had no money, I gradually grew distant from my classmates. Rumors about me started to multiply. Some said I had mental problems, valuing a piece of scrap paper shopping receipt more than my own life. Last time, trying to chase down a shopping receipt blown away by the wind, I fell down the stairs and scraped my leg. Some said I had no sympathy. During a heatwave, an old man selling fruit by the side of the road looked very pitiful. Everyone bought fruit to help the old man; I was the only one who didn't. Others said I was just a petty person who liked to take advantage. When a new supermarket opened, I lined up at 3 AM and ended up missing an important major course. Every day, I couldn't get enough to eat. In just one month, my weight plummeted from 110 pounds to under 90 pounds. I wanted to get a part-time job, but being alone all the time made my palms sweat and my whole body tremble whenever I spoke to strangers. On the second day of my part-time job, I fainted in the store. It was the kind-hearted boss who took me to the hospital. The doctor said I had severe depression and was already showing serious somatic symptoms, meaning I could faint at any moment. I didn't dare go back to the part-time job, afraid of causing trouble for the boss. But I couldn't even afford to pay for the medication the doctor prescribed. I understood even more that as long as the issue with the allowance receipts remained, my depression would never be cured. For a pitifully small allowance, I was truly going crazy. But even when I did what my mom demanded. She still found faults, and my allowance never went back up to $500. That day, right after class, I felt a sharp, twisting pain in my stomach. Because I had been chronically underfed and eating poorly, I had developed severe stomach issues. But I couldn't even afford the cheapest stomach medicine the doctor prescribed, so I ended up just buying the cheapest painkillers. By the time I left the pharmacy, it was very late. My stomach was still throbbing with pain. After finishing a bagel, I threw away the plastic bag and accidentally threw away the pharmacy receipt into the trash can. Realizing what had happened, I felt like I had been struck by lightning. Reacting immediately, I disregarded everything and started digging through the trash can. I didn't care if my fingers got cut, and I didn't care about the foul stench of the trash can. I just wanted to find that receipt. A familiar voice came from behind me. It was my best friend from a neighboring university, Mia. I didn't answer her, having finally found that receipt. I quickly wiped the receipt clean with my clothes. When I looked up, Mia was already standing in front of me, looking shocked and heartbroken. Only then did I realize what I had just done, my face turning bright red. Followed by a dam-burst of tears. Mia didn't care that I was dirty and smelly, and she hugged me. I couldn't hold it in anymore and showed her my chat history with my mom. Choking back sobs, I said: "Am I a criminal? Do I need to prove every single breath I take?!" Mia gritted her teeth in anger. "Holy shit, is this raising a daughter or punishing a prisoner? Rules? Signatures? 24 hours? Does she think she's the FBI?" "To hell with her bullshit rules. Chloe, if you keep enduring this, you're truly going to be ruined!" I clenched my fists tightly, my nails digging into my flesh. That thought, which had sprouted countless times only to be suppressed by me, could no longer be contained. I had to fight back! Before I could speak, the phone in my pocket suddenly vibrated. It was a greeting message from a senior who had already graduated. He asked me if I was eating well. Mia leaned in. "Wow, such caring words. Is he pursuing you? He's pretty handsome, and I heard his family is well-off. They run a chain of supermarkets." Supermarkets! I blinked, an idea forming in my mind. That night, hiding under the covers, I was so nervous my hands shook. I sent a message to the senior: [Senior, let's date. As long as you can get me any receipt I need.]