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Buyer's Remorse

I am so sick of my kids' outfits. The ones under age ten anyway. They seem to wear the same three tee shirts and generic bottoms every single day. I even go into their drawers and rearrange so neglected tees have a greater opportunity to escape for a day of wear. Fail. (Drink) I've concluded it is not a lazy-grab-the-first-thing-you-touch decision making process. It all boils down to preference.

But as I was getting dressed this morning, I realized that I haven't been setting a very good example when it comes to variety. They are modeling my very boring tendency to wear what I like to call my "uniform." It varies by season - winter is leggings and a hoodie; in spring and fall, the leggings morph into crop leggings and the hoodie is replaced by a long sleeve tee. And (drink) come summer, you'll find me in shorts (usually with an elastic waistband) and a tank top (the 2 for $9 kind). I did change things up recently and added some colored leggings to what was once a stock of solely black. But they are all the same Old Navy Elevate Powersoft line. Highly recommend by the way. Basically, I shop in the active wear section even though I don't work out.

If the kids see me wearing jeans, they wonder what the occasion is. And they're right - jeans are reserved for date night. They're itchy. And constrictive. But I can suffer for a couple hours in the name of fashion. Although I'm pretty sure my jeans no longer qualify as fashionable. They're not high wasted. I just can't.

I went through a phase during which I'd try to throw a pair of jeans into the mix during the day from time to time. And inevitably, I'd suffer as long as I could bear, the scratchy fabric souring my mood until (drink) I called Uncle and replaced them with a pair of unflattering fleece pajama bottoms. Or I'll pull a top out that hasn't seen past the walls of my closet in ages, and make myself wear it, purely out of guilt. I'm not sure (drink) why I don't wear it until I realize the sleeves are too tight or the hemline is too short. Or the arms are too loose and won't stay up while I'm doing dishes. Or every time I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I'll be like, "damn I look bad today." And I'll realize it's because of the shirt. So I'll return it to its hanger where it will sit for (drink) another year until I forget why I don't like it and repeat the process all over again.

It's one thing to regret buying a $25 top. But when we splurged and bought a $600 Bugaboo stroller for Abigail, and I realized very quickly that I hated it, I lied. Even to myself. I would (drink) struggle to collapse the damn thing and it took up my entire trunk. It was bulky and complicated and all I wanted was a $20 umbrella stroller that I could collapse with one hand and maneuver through the aisles without knocking over mannequins. But look how comfortable she is! I'd marvel as Abigail slept soundly in the ridiculous bassinet accessory. She didn't even wake up when the mannequin fell over!

I learned a good (drink) lesson over that stroller. Or did I? I still take the bait and invest in products marketed directly to suckers like me. I still buy jeans even though I wear them like once a month. Just yesterday, I found myself clicking into that Thrive Cosmetics mascara ad on my Facebook feed for the billionth time wondering if I should put it to the test. And then I thought, really Jill? Do you really think this mascara is going to be any different from any other mascara you've tried? Click off the ad immediately. And I did. (Drink) Or how about all those bra ads? Sorry guys, this post is heavily female skewed. They just look so comfortable and pretty at the same time. Could it be? Yes, perhaps it could. But for $80 I'm all set. I should have had the same foresight on so many purchases, but alas, I failed to restrain myself.

I'm no longer buying more tee shirts for the three younger kids though, that's for sure. Since Abigail and Paige seem to be following in my footsteps as clothes hoarders, I'm finding myself negotiating online shopping carts of crop tops and bucket hats (trending!) with them on a regular basis, so I'll allocate the funds to build their wardrobe of neglected apparel instead. I'll endure the (drink) neon green football tank until Kaleb can no longer squeeze into it and I'll stitch armpit holes in the twins' rotational tees until they are threadbare. They don't care, and quite frankly, neither do I.

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