We’re taught to fixate on the price tag. I grew up with that—immigrant parents, constant chorus of too expensive, we can’t afford that. Even small joys got vetoed. A $40 spa visit? Not a chance. It felt smart to say no.

That mindset stuck to me for years. But I’ve been reframing: don’t get stuck on absolute cost—ask about actual value to you.

It shows up in small ways. Yesterday I needed swim trunks. I forgot mine on this trip.
Old me: You already own swim trunks. Don’t waste money.
New me: What’s the value of being able to enjoy the pool here?

For me, it’s more than $20–$30. I passed on the $150 pair (yikes), and found a $5 one (score). I also grabbed a $15 backpack and a $10 gym bag. Do I “need” them for a 10-day trip? Maybe not. But they’ll make these 10 days easier. There’s a cost to clutter and waste, and I’m mindful of that—but there’s also value in convenience and lowered friction.

Here’s the principle that helps me decide:

If something will improve my life more than the money it costs me, it’s a yes.

People call purchases “investments,” but that doesn't quite fit. A true investment returns what you invested—money returns money; time returns time. Most purchases don’t do that. Still, the kernel is right: the thing should give you value—remove a friction, solve a problem, free up energy.

So even if something is temporary or disposable—like a backpack I might ditch at the end of the trip—it can still be “worth it” if it meaningfully improves this slice of life.

Would I spend $100 on a massage right now? Maybe. If it helps me sleep and show up better for an onsite, that value could exceed the price—even if it doesn’t “pay back” in a literal way.

This is a reminder to myself (and anyone who grew up with the same money script): don’t measure your life in price tags. Measure it in the value something brings to you, right now.