![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Annoyingly, purchases of late seem to be aimed at teaching me the value of buying well, or rather, expensively.
Bargain coffee turns out to be rotten, but not discovered until the receipt is trashed and the trash is picked up; bargain clothes fall apart at the seams, requiring expensive tailor visits* or trashing; cheap makeup turns out to be, indeed, cheap**; my new house shoes, although the same brand and even shoe name as before, are suddenly cheaper and now have a flat rubber floppy sole rather than the previous contoured cushion support; and a $5-jump rope broke within 30 seconds. (I repaired it easily enough at least. $5 returns inevitably end in arguments over shipping with small companies.) Korean skincare alone seems exempt. Long live budget-friendly Haru Haru Wonder Barrier Essence, Jin Jung Sung Essence/peptide serum, and Beauty of Joseon SPF.
The coffee, at least, helped me on my way to weight loss. I had a few sips during which I insisted to myself it was not spoiled, until I had to admit it was. Consequences were, well, consequential, and I am now down almost eight pounds in two weeks as opposed to four and a half the day before.
As I glare at my deeply disappointing $7 hairbrush (my fourth or fifth attempt in six years) and ineffectual bargain lactic acid serum while eyeballing ridiculous Mason Pearson brushes and Sunday Riley Good Genes, I began calculating my expenditures on luxury versus bargain items. It is not the "you spend as much on cheap as you do on good" calculation that I wish it were, which would justify these expensive purchases. Upon review, it seems I've probably spent anywhere from half to a quarter on cheap versions of what I would on the expensive ones. But that is a lot to spend to not enjoy things.
Then again, it's cheap compared to Ozempic.
* There are people that could sew these corrections themselves, but I do badly at button repairs, let alone more complex seams.
** There is a great deal of wonderful, inexpensive makeup. Just not what I've bought lately. Or maybe my expectations have risen too far with the extraordinary options we have now; I'd probably have been bowled over in 1998.
Bargain coffee turns out to be rotten, but not discovered until the receipt is trashed and the trash is picked up; bargain clothes fall apart at the seams, requiring expensive tailor visits* or trashing; cheap makeup turns out to be, indeed, cheap**; my new house shoes, although the same brand and even shoe name as before, are suddenly cheaper and now have a flat rubber floppy sole rather than the previous contoured cushion support; and a $5-jump rope broke within 30 seconds. (I repaired it easily enough at least. $5 returns inevitably end in arguments over shipping with small companies.) Korean skincare alone seems exempt. Long live budget-friendly Haru Haru Wonder Barrier Essence, Jin Jung Sung Essence/peptide serum, and Beauty of Joseon SPF.
The coffee, at least, helped me on my way to weight loss. I had a few sips during which I insisted to myself it was not spoiled, until I had to admit it was. Consequences were, well, consequential, and I am now down almost eight pounds in two weeks as opposed to four and a half the day before.
As I glare at my deeply disappointing $7 hairbrush (my fourth or fifth attempt in six years) and ineffectual bargain lactic acid serum while eyeballing ridiculous Mason Pearson brushes and Sunday Riley Good Genes, I began calculating my expenditures on luxury versus bargain items. It is not the "you spend as much on cheap as you do on good" calculation that I wish it were, which would justify these expensive purchases. Upon review, it seems I've probably spent anywhere from half to a quarter on cheap versions of what I would on the expensive ones. But that is a lot to spend to not enjoy things.
Then again, it's cheap compared to Ozempic.
* There are people that could sew these corrections themselves, but I do badly at button repairs, let alone more complex seams.
** There is a great deal of wonderful, inexpensive makeup. Just not what I've bought lately. Or maybe my expectations have risen too far with the extraordinary options we have now; I'd probably have been bowled over in 1998.