I’m not one of those people who looks back on their life and says ‘If I could do it all again, I wouldn’t change a thing’. I’d love to say that I have no regrets, but that would be a lie. I have plenty. If I was to talk about a couple of my biggest regrets, I’d probably have to touch on the vodka and Red bull incident of 1998, the orange (yes, ORANGE) trainers I wore on and off throughout my entire 4 years at university, and, of course, the absolutely hideous moment when, in a hurry to catch a train, I told a boyfriend (who I most certainly did not love) that I loved him. By accident.
But these regrets are all minor indiscretions when compared to what I would class as the biggest regret of my life so far. The truth is, my biggest ever regret is not a shameful drunken incident, an ill-advised fashion choice, or even the fact that I somehow accidentally managed to instigate a serious relationship with someone I didn’t remotely fancy.
No, my biggest regret, to date, is this:
Yes, this absolutely massive beast of a unicorn. For reasons unbeknownst to me (although I’m guessing it was one of those emotional nights, when you watch your children sleeping soundly and you start thinking about just how incredibly lucky you are to have them), I made this purchase as a gift for my little girl.
No one asked for it, no one pressured me into buying it, it was not a purchase made under duress and I have absolutely no one else to blame for it, but myself. I willingly ordered, paid for and had delivered this monstrosity of a soft toy.
Not only is it completely hideous, it is massive (did I mention?) and we have nowhere to keep it. Even when Little B’s room is tidy (and I can only tidy and clean her room by first removing the hideous creature), the simple act of returning it to her bedroom undoes all my work. It’s very existence makes the place look like an absolute tip.
If it has ever had any point at all, it would be that it was once used as something for Little B to snuggle into whenever she wet the bed as a toddler and we needed to change her sheets in the middle of the night. But this now happens so rarely that even if it could be said to have once had the slightest hint of a purpose, it is certainly now completely redundant.
I have considered fashioning a giant unicorn size body bag out of bin liners and condemning the godforsaken mythical menace to the loft until Little B forgets about it, but I know I’d never get away with it because she can be quite sentimental when it comes to her toys, and this thing is so bloody big that whenever I’ve previously tried to remove it from her room, she’s noticed that it’s missing within seconds.
I have to look at this gormless creature staring out from the side of Little B’s room every day: a constant reminder of the perils of over-emotional impulse buying. I’d shove it under her bed if it would fit. Or I’d squeeze it into her wardrobe if it wasn’t so gi-bloody-normous.
It’s looking like the useless unicorn is going to be with us for a while, destined to remain sprawled across the bedroom floor in all it’s glorious pointlessness, for many years to come. No doubt I will continue to make futile attempts to relocate and then finally banish it from our house, and Little B will continue to successfully demand that it’s brought back to her room, pronto.
But one day, I will dispose of it for good. And if that day just happens to fall on or around 5th November, and I just happen to be carrying a box of matches, then all the better.
Have you made any similar poor purchasing decisions? Every bought anything you’re going to regret for the rest of your life? Let me know in the comments.