I caught the tail end of a movie from the late 1980’s, “Baby Boom,” starring Diane Keaton. She’s a ruthless businesswoman in New York City on her way up the corporate ladder.

Life changes dramatically when Keaton inherits a toddler from a distant cousin and has to adjust her life to raise Elizabeth.

Keaton moves to a farmhouse in Vermont she’s dreamed about for years. She thinks the old place will be perfect and jumps right in. Turns out the house has all kinds of problems, and it costs her a fortune to fix it up.

I can relate to that character as I’ve jumped into so many situations, regretting almost as many as I celebrated.

The first car I ever bought was a small Honda. They were new to the automobile line back in the early 1980s, but I didn’t need a big car. That white hatchback was the right size for my son and me, and so was the price.

I bought it from a showroom that didn’t haggle with the price. Those first Hondas were priced like television sets – the low price was the final price.

We kept that car until baby number two was coming, and then traded it to a friend for a minivan.

The last we heard, the hatchback went on to rack up over 200,000 miles on the odometer.

Never regretted buying that car for a minute.

I did regret buying an exercise bicycle.

Getting in shape in one’s living room has been around for a long time, but VHS tapes made it possible for anyone to pop an aerobics tape into the VCR and exercise alone.

The tapes were good, but I thought I needed to ramp up the routine. I bought an exercise bicycle from a friend. His wife seldom used it and I got the bike for a good price.

I rode it a few times and got bored quickly with only seeing my bedroom walls.

After a few months, I regretfully realized the exercise bike was the best coat rack I’d ever bought.

So, I bought a used bicycle, thinking I could tool around the neighborhood with my young son on the back of the bike and my elder boy riding his Hot Wheels car alongside us.

Young son screamed like a banshee the entire time, and sitting on a bicycle for more than 20 minutes was not comfortable or fun.

Sold both bikes and never regretted seeing them leave the house.

A co-worker recommended some stock when I was in my early 20s. I wanted to be like a Wall Street tycoon and make a fortune dealing in stocks.

So I bought a few shares of a stock he recommended at $20 apiece, dreaming of the piles of money I’d make.

There wasn’t any wheeling.

Wasn’t any dealing.

Just a steady decline in price, but I held onto the stock, believing that one day, the price would skyrocket.

Thirty years later, one share of that stock was worth one cent.

That was a deal I regretted for three decades.

Still, some things are worth it. I might regret the extra inches on my hips, but I don’t regret the Pralines and Cream Blue Bell ice cream on nights when I was feeling a little blue.

Nor do I regret the decadent Baklava Cheesecake covered in caramel syrup my sisters and I practically licked off the plate on a recent get together.

Choices are made and we live with the satisfaction of having made a great decision or the regret at having been a dope.

So walk past the exercise bike and pass the Blue Bell.

Life’s too short to live it with regrets.

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.