2nd January 2026 - 4 min read

I nearly tripped over my dumbbells today.
They’ve been sitting in the corner of my room for months now, gathering dust. I bought them in January with such conviction. 2025 was the year I’d finally get serious about exercise. Proper equipment, actual plan, no more excuses.
And then I thought: what else did I buy this year that I’m not using anymore?
The workout outfits, for one.I spent about RM500 on leggings, tops, and a new pair of running shoes. The kind that made you look like someone who actually worked out regularly. They lasted about a month before the excuses started. Too tired to go to the gym after work. Got emails to reply. I’ll go tomorrow.
Then I remembered the RM300 foldable treadmill I got from TikTok. I imagined myself taking calls while casually walking, staying active without even trying. How cool would that be?
News flash: that only looks cool on TV! In reality, it gets tedious to set up. Used it twice, maybe three times, before it became permanent furniture in my room corner.
RM800 for a fitness journey that lasted four weeks total.
Work got intense around April. New deadlines, longer hours, shoulders tensing up before I even opened my laptop. I kept reading about calm, successful people and their morning meditation routines.
Well, calm costs RM35 a month on the Play Store. Guided meditations, sleep stories, celebrity voices, all in one app. I was going to start my days grounded instead of immediately stressed.
The first week was great. Ten minutes every morning before I checked my phone, and I actually felt noticeably calmer, more focused.
Week two, four sessions. Week three, two. Then work got busier and the app stayed closed. But I kept the subscription active because surely I’d restart the habit any day now.
June’s renewal notification arrived and I realised I’d been paying RM35 monthly for an app I hadn’t opened since mid-April. RM105 for ten days of feeling calm, plus eight weeks of forgetting I was being charged.
Year-end sales brought my most embarrassing purchases. Not things that would change my life, just things that made me feel financially clever.
Shoe containers first. RM25 each on flash sale, bought across three orders to stack discount codes. Six containers for RM150. Dust-proof, stackable, finally organised.
I own five pairs of shoes. A shoe rack would’ve been cheaper.
Then the cat tree. RM180 for this anti-dust model on sale. Multiple levels, scratching posts, the whole setup. The product photos showed elegant cats perched on every level looking satisfied.
My cats sniffed it once and returned to the sofa. RM180 to confirm my cats want the sofa and have always wanted the sofa. The anti-dust feature was for me, not them.
Neither purchase solved real problems. RM330 to feel smart about sales while actually wasting money.
RM1,235 total. Dumbbells, walking pad, gym clothes, meditation subscription, shoe containers, cat tree. Over a thousand ringgit trying to become a better version of myself.
None of it worked because I kept trying to purchase change instead of actually changing. I thought having the right tools, the right setup, the right environment would make the transformation happen naturally, but buying things doesn’t transform you.
At least now I recognise what I’m actually doing when I’m hovering over “Place Order.” I’m not buying solutions, just that brief high of feeling like I’m taking action, like change is one purchase away.
Sometimes that recognition stops me. Sometimes I need that high.
Subscribe to our exclusive weekly newsletter and we’ll bring you the week’s highlights of financial news, expert tips, guides, and the latest credit card and e-wallet deals.
Stay tuned for what’s to come next in the personal finance world
Comments (0)