Thursday, April 13, 2006

The PPU of Canned Yoga.

I know I'm not the only one. At least not the only Female.

It sits there, in your Entertainment Centre cabinet, or peraps even on a bookshelf. A daily reminder of those promises you made to yourself. The promises you... never kept.

It wears a brightly-coloured case that reads: "Yoga for Thighs*" or "Pilates for Life**" or "From Flab to Abs***" or perhaps "Tae-Bo your Butt into Oblivion ****"


*Cellulite, you don't stand a chance!
**Take that, Core Muscles!
***And you thought I was afraid of swimsuit season...
****I'll bet Oblivion is just full of extra bum fat.

There was Sara Ivanhoe, smiling serenely at me from her slick website; telling me how toned and simultaneously relaxed I could be JUST BY BUYING HER YOGA TAPE!!!

I actually do yoga regularly. I go to a yoga class every Thursday night. I love yoga. I like the yoga DVD I bought. It is a good DVD.
In theory, I should be highly motivated to do yoga on the weekend. So why have I only used the DVD twice since buying it on Amazon before Christmas? Have I, yet again, wasted my money on something I will never use?

I have a list of things that I'm not allowed to buy anymore, because I've wasted so much money on them in the past:
  1. Tight low-rise jeans that make my bum look good...(which become immediately unbearable to wear the moment they shrink the TEENSIEST amount*.)
  2. More nailpolish.
  3. Cheap-but-cute clothes: the novelty lasts one month, so do the seams.
  4. Lip gloss/stick/shine/balm/shimmer. (Turns out I'm a Blistex kinda girl)
  5. Cabbage. Always buy it, never eat it.
  6. More fabric on sale.
  7. Tube tops. Nothing to hold them up.
  8. Those rollerblades.
  9. That wedding dress... Well, maybe "wasted" is not quite the right word.
  10. Exercise videos.
My dad has this unique system of calculating whether a purchase is "worth it." The formula is simple. You take the original purchase price of the item, then divide it by the number of uses. Depending on the item, the optimal PPU (price per use) is between 2 cents and $1.

Example 1:Grad Dress. Ooh! The pouffiness!

Purchase price: $550
Number of wears: Let's see. There was grad, then that party I went to in first year, then that other party at Christmas...
Okay, 3 times total

PPU: A lousy $183.34 per wear. You, my friend, have just wasted your money.

Example 2: Dad's dark suit.

Purchase Price: $550 (about 10 years ago)
Number of Wears: 8 times a year x 10 years = 80 and going strong.

PPU: Still stepping out in style for a much more thrifty 6.88/wear.

Example 3: Dad's sport socks.

Purchase price: Costco price for 12 pairs for $16.99 = $1.42/ pair
Number of wears: At least 100. Possibly more. These champions don't hit retirement until they sport a hole or two.

PPU: Hokey Dinah! We're down to 1.42 cents a wear folks. We got us a bargoon!

In today's consumerist society, I can't help but admire my dad. He has a practical view when it comes to buying things. Unfortunately it's my mom who does all the shopping.
Even more unfortunately, when it comes to shopping, I got my mother's genes.

With only 800 square feet of living space (plus the crawlspace of doom that is constantly determined to crack my skull or sprain my ankle) I am steamed at having, so far, wasted .05 of a square foot on some yoga videos that still have a PPU of around $12 each.

Maybe I'll give it one more crack. If I can get those DVDs down to $1 per use, I'll at least feel as though they were worth it. I'll keep you posted.

In the meantime, have fun calculating the PPU of your favourite undies...

Over and out.

* Seriously. Have you ever experienced that slightly panicky claustrophobic feeling of being trapped in too-tight pants? I mean, what if, for some reason, you had to touch your toes, or you'd die? You'd be dead. Dead!!!

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