The other night, I was doing my monthly 6 loads of laundry (sorry, mom), when I started organizing one shelf of my closet. On it were some skirts, jeans, work pants, and of course, my shorts. I finally got to the bottom of my shorts pile when out of the corner of my eye I saw a price tag. I’ve mentioned in the past, my history with shopping, spending habits, and problems with clothing addiction. But I thought I had kicked it. So where was the price tag coming from?

I reached in, pulled, sneezed (because I’m allergic to literally everything), and then burst out laughing.

What was the item, you ask?

These:

I call them… my “one day” shorts.

Seven years ago (yes, when auto tune was a thing), during my past days of spending-money-I-don’t-have, I purchased these shorts without trying them on. They were my size, only $24, and they’d be a pretty big hit at that Calgary Stampede I mentioned awhile back.

I mean, who wouldn’t buy these bandana styled jean shorts? *hides face*

Upon getting home and trying them on, (because doing it at the store would take too much of my precious time pre-drinking and applying hairspray) I realized they were too tight.

Like, can’t get past your thighs or booty tight.

And instead of returning them, my back-then logic was to keep them. Tucked away. As a “fitness goal”.

I told myself repeatedly, year after year, that: “One day I’ll fit in these shorts and feel really good about myself”

Well, seven years later, I realize now that fitness goals can’t include shedding a few pounds of hip bone. And the shorts, while able to get past my thighs and butt…

*dramatic pause for effect*

…still don’t fit.

I spent money that I didn’t have on something that I would never use. And that my friends, is one of my biggest financial no-no’s.

So after pulling these “one day” shorts out of my closet, sharing the story with my husband, and laughing at all of the stupid things I used to buy as a young adult, I started a list. A list of things that I could have done with these shorts instead of bury them away, price tag still intact.

• RETURN THEM. Like a normal person.

• Donate them. Like a good person.

• Give them to a very petite friend. Like a nice person.

• Not buy them in the first place. LOL, obvi.

But instead I took this as a lesson, and here is what I’ve learned: never go to the mall with the intent on buying clothing for a one-time event. Even if you have the money.

Clothing is one of those financial burdens we give ourselves a free pass on, time and time again.

“Well, if crop tops are in style right now, they’ll definitely be in style next year, so spending $80 on half a shirt seems pretty responsible to me.”

We buy things and disregard them quickly, just like we buy things and refuse to let them go even though they’ve started to tear and lose shape. We don’t understand it, we just do it.

Assuming you’ll one day fit into a smaller piece of clothing because you have a goal is like assuming your debt will disappear because you want it to. Instead of hoping for the best, why not just tackle it head on? I’m still trying first-hand to get it right, but we all have our slips (pun intended).

Have you ever bought an item of clothing with the hopes that “one day” you’ll be able to fit into it? How did that work out for you? Let me know in the comments!