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On a Saturday afternoon sixteen years ago, a young mother of two small boys sat, weeping in despair, at the kitchen table. She feared her compulsive overspending would end her marriage and lead to foreclosure on their home. How could I have racked up thousands of dollars in debt? she agonized, not realizing it was even worse than she thought. She later discovered her bills totalled more than $100,000.
Today that woman is fifty-year-old Mary Hunt, founder of Cheapskate Monthly, a newsletter she started in 1992 that now reaches twenty thousand subscribers in the U.S. and Canada. Her simple dollars-and-sense advice—based on biblical principles and her Christian faith—has landed her guest spots on dozens of national and regional television talk and news shows, including Oprah, which resulted in the sale of more than 100,000 copies of The Best of Cheapskate Monthly (St. Martin's Press). In all, she's written eight books in the last four years, such as Cheapskate in the Kitchen, Debt-Proof Your Holidays (both St. Martin's), The Complete Cheapskate, Tiptionary, and The Financially Confident Woman (all Broadman & Holman). She also answers financial questions monthly in Single Parent Family magazine and has her own interactive website (cheapskatemonthly.com).
A former spendthrift, Mary now enjoys life as a "cheapskate," a person who, according to her definition, gives generously, saves consistently, and never spends more money than she has. Next to her computer, a glass jar filled with cut-up credit cards serves as an everpresent reminder of how far Mary's come from the uncontrolled spending that once consumed her life. In this interview, Mary reveals the financial folly and false notions that nearly destroyed her, and how God's grace has changed her life and motivated her to help others live within their means.
How did you get so deeply into debt?
For me, it started long ago with an attitude of the heart. I grew up as a preacher's kid in Spokane, Washington, and accepted Christ when I was about five years old. Somewhere along the line, I got the message that if I just had more money, I'd be happy. With an older sister and two younger brothers, we lived frugally. But I felt very poor—and I was embarrassed because I had to wear hand-me-downs. My siblings never struggled the way I did. Perhaps it was because I was a sensitive, sad, lonely child, and my parents didn't know how to help me. I thought being rich—and marrying a rich man someday—would not only give me the things I wanted, like a house with a white picket fence, but would make me happy. So when I left in 1966 for Los Angeles Baptist College (now the Masters College) to get a music degree, I started getting in trouble with money.
What kind of trouble?
I got a part-time college job and opened a checking account. Then I went with my rich roommate to a shopping mall. Knowing I only had a couple bucks in my account, I got a wild idea: What if I wrote a check to buy some clothes right then—and deposited the money in my account a few days later after I got paid? I figured no one would find out because I'd do it just once—and I'd be closer to my dream of getting what I'd wanted as a child.
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