I’ve been given a few food items recently and I’m not at Bea Johnson’s stage of refusing medals from mayors and refusing even the smallest of gifts is difficult. So I accept and guiltily eat away.
To anyone who has been living zero-waste for a long time, I’m sure it’s easy peasy to refuse things like the above. But for me, it is so counter-intuitive and against everything I have ever learnt – to refuse a gift (and especially a gift to me as a host) (and especially food).
I tell myself that I’m still a newbie and still transitioning relatively quietly i.e. not shouting about it on the rooftops, therefore it’s up to me to make the decision of when to alert people to my lifestyle.
The daughter has her own mug as well?? They are both awesome. 2 minutes in and still getting distracted but OKAY OKAY I’LL STOP
I don’t even know the name of this character yet but I know she’s bringing her own mug to the coffee shop.
Gilmore Girls Episode 1 (Yes. I know. I am late coming to the party. Also, I am an adult, yes.) There hasn’t even been dialogue yet, and I’m getting distracted.
While “past self’s decisions” was about stocking up on food and trying to recognise that habit, this post is also about the danger of “2 for 1” deals.
I have worn Elizabeth Arden’s Green Tea Lotus perfume for about 8 years now. The last time I re-stocked – a couple of years ago – I found myself buying two bottles for the price of one. I didn’t know at the time that
a) I would eventually want to change perfumes (but it’s okay – I still like it)
b) I would be transitioning into a zero-waste lifestyle.
Again, I have to deal with the consequences of my past self’s actions. I have to find out whether the packaging is recyclable, and if so, where.
I also have to start thinking about future plans, once this bottle runs out: should I simply not wear perfume? Fabricate my own? Buy from local perfume makers who could re-fill my bottle (do these shops even exist??)?
And lo and behold, there go another seven hours of internet trawling.
In my last post, I mentioned that I crave M&Ms.
A part of me feels like I really shouldn’t even put such foodstuffs in my body anyway – and I could probably make them from scratch (Hello recipe. Nice to meet you.)
And then, I remember that I am transitioning, that I have already cut out kilos of food I would usually eat, and that I can’t expect myself to flip over like a pancake and be a new person.
I also remember that I am heading to London soon, and that I have always looked away in disgust at M&Ms world on Leicester Square, criticising that place for being the pinnacle of junk food, consumerism, and aimless eating.
But they have bulk bins.
Full of M&Ms. I could stock up for a year. Until I’ve weaned myself off them. Until I come back to my senses, as an adult. Until the sugar oozes out of my pores.
Funnily enough, I’m not trying to be super healthy – or not anymore than I used to. I eat loads of chocolate. I eat loads of brownies. I eat loads of snacks other people offer me. I eat. I like eating. I talk about food. Passionately.
So my transitioning and learning how to live differently will also include slip-ups (deliberate or not) which will continue to teach me what I am looking for, and what I am working towards.
These might be the last batch of M&Ms I get.
I have this insane habit of ferociously stocking up on food. It’s like I am terrified of running out of food at a critical moment, or of running out of money and being unable to eat. I don’t know where this comes from. My friends make fun of me and of my piles of food under my bed.
So this is why it is only now that I am finishing a few packets of food that I had bought about 6 months ago (seriously).
Do you ever feel frustrated about your past self’s decisions? There are big things you can be angry about, like that partner you should have separated from earlier or that letter you really shouldn’t have sent… And then there are the small things, like a comment you made a few months ago that lacked empathy, or buying a £13 cheese when you really need a hairdryer so you don’t go out into the cold with wet hair…
And then there’s a slightly ridiculous habit of having vast amounts of food stashed in ever corner in case disaster strikes.
Needless to say, I will now buy ground almonds from the bulk bins!
Maybe I’ll just have glass jars full of food under my bed from now on… Old habits die hard…
Funnily enough, here I am talking about peanut butter again. I think it will be a recurrent theme. In real life, few of my friends have the patience to listen to me wax lyrical about peanut butter. My brother does, thank goodness.
We are peanut butter brethren.
I wonder if we were surreptitiously bathed in it as children.
To be honest, I’m in admiration with myself. I haven’t bought a jar of peanut butter since the last Ground Peanut Butter Jar. My determination has not wavered on this point (but it has elsewhere, as you will see). I have held fast through all my cravings, through all my trips to various stores displaying lovely little jars of Peanut Butter Of The Gods. Singing Siren Peanut Butter. Orpheus Music Peanut Butter. Watching A Sunrise From The Top Of A Mountain Peanut Butter. Swimming In The Sea Peanut Butter. Listening To Birdsong In The Morning Peanut Butter.
I went grocery shopping today and prepped some jars:
(Because I don’t have any cloth bags and have stolen all the tupperware the flat has, to my great surprise. It was only when my flatmates asked me where their tupperware was that I realised I had completely monopolised them. I promptly fessed up and opened my food cupboard for all to see my food stocked in THEIR shiny tupperware. Woopsies. So instead I steal their jars from the recycling bin. I hope they don’t find me too odd.)
WHOLEFOODS HAS THEIR NUT GRINDER BACK.
A NUT GRINDER IS IN GLASGOW.
CLOSER THAN 42 MILES AWAY IN EDINBURGH.
I was vastly unprepared, having only brought small jars, rather than a 5 kilo one.
I spent all afternoon spoon-feeding myself peanut butter.
It also made me think – once again – about Calvin and Hobbes and the great wisdom within it.
I’m beginning to have a lot in common with Calvin’s dad: a hatred of over-consumption; a love of camping and an adoration of cycling.