Tag Archives: Life Without Plastic

A Day of No Plastic

Year Of No Garbage, , ,

During our Year of No Garbage I’ve come to realize that plastic is Public Enemy Number One: it doesn’t degrade, it often can’t— or won’t— be recycled, and it is doing all kinds of bad things in our bodies and in our environment. We have invented a monster, and the monster is everywhere.

So it occurred to me to wonder: How long could a person today avoid plastic? For example, how hard would it be to avoid plastic for… a single day?

I decided to try it. After assuring my family I would attempt this particular challenge solo, I laid out a quick set of rules. It would be very literal: I couldn’t touch plastic. It would last from the moment I got up until the moment I went to bed. And no obvious cheats —like wearing gloves.

Leading up to this Day of No Plastic I was super excited: weird experiments, of course, are my idea of a good time.

But I also began to get a little concerned. Every day I realized more and more things I wouldn’t be able to use. Not only could I not touch pens, my alarm clock, my hairbrush, the computer, or pretty much any food packaging, but I also couldn’t touch key items such as the toilet seat, the telephone, or even medication bottles. Most of my clothes were off limits because of synthetic fibers, including all tights, socks and bras.

I couldn’t drive anywhere, because cars are made of 50% plastic. This was probably just as well though, because I also couldn’t wear my glasses.

Still, I had no idea. Not really. I woke up on the morning of the appointed day and after carefully hovering over the freezing cold porcelain, automatically used the plastic soap dispenser to wash my hands. I was barely awake and already I had made MISTAKE #1.

At breakfast my family exclaimed over realizations of all the things I wouldn’t be able to touch that day.

“You can’t answer the phone!”

“Hey Mom, you may not be able to turn on a light switch… but you can use an oil lamp!”

I couldn’t do any of my normal exercise, because my yoga mat, our mini-trampoline, and the Bowflex are all made of plastic. A walk was possible, but I wasn’t sure I had any shoes without plastic. Or a coat without polyester.

There was an extended discussion over whether I would be allowed to walk on our floor, which is painted—thankfully resolved when my husband Steve recalled that the latex paint is covered by a natural finish made of whey protein— and whether I could sit in my chair in the living room—The label says it’s made of “mohair”? What is mohair? Turns out mohair is goat wool.

So I wouldn’t have to learn how to fly, or be required to relax by sitting on the wood coffee table. That was good.

Greta helpfully pointed out I couldn’t even get out of my own pajamas since the buttons are made of plastic. A few minutes later I went upstairs, forgot this entirely, and made MISTAKE #2.

Lucky for me our shower is tile. But I had to ask the girls to pour shampoo out of the plastic container for me. I was starting to feel like an invalid. It was as I got dressed in a pre-selected outfit composed entirely of cotton and wool— in the dark because I couldn’t turn on the light switch in my closet— that I began to get a sinking feeling.

There I was, without bra, make-up, or brushed hair. I made MISTAKE #3 while trying button my own sweater. Plastic buttons, AGAIN.

Now that I was at least clothed, what would I do with myself all day? Normally I’d write or do research, but the computer is all plastic. Magazines and books were off-limits, since most use plastic in the glossy pages and covers. Doing laundry was verboten, since all the washing machine dials are plastic, and who knew so many of our clothes and sheets are blended fabrics that use synthetic plastic materials? I couldn’t clean, because even my homemade cleaning solutions are in plastic bottles, and the vacuum cleaner is plastic.

I thought, at least I can clean up the kitchen.

MISTAKE #4: Picked up a plastic container.

MISTAKE #5: Pulled out plastic shelf of the dishwasher.

I found myself moving in slow motion, in an attempt to think before automatically touching something. Maybe I could veeeeeeeery carefully get ingredients out for making dinner later…

MISTAKE #6: the cap of a spice container.

A welcome diversion was the arrival of the mail, which gave me the chance to make

MISTAKE #7: Touching plastic tape while trying to open a box.

Lunch came and along with it MISTAKE #8: I touched a plastic bag trying to get a chip to eat. Ilsa ends up feeding me one and I feel like a toddler. I am five.

By this point I was walking through the house like a ghost with no power to affect the physical world: leaving lights on, leaving dishes at the table, leaving laundry unfolded. Without my glasses nothing was sharp and I walked around in a kind of a fog.

By mid-afternoon I’d become actively paranoid. Are you sure the chicken coop door handle isn’t plastic coated? I asked Steve anxiously. REALLY? I touched it gingerly and was relieved: the black handle was cold, the way metal should be.

At this point I had come to the realization I couldn’t do anything I normally do. Exercise, cooking, cleaning, writing, research, email… it was kind of like having a vacation day, but the worst, most frustrating vacation day ever.

My only solace was my embroidery project. I’d checked the thread and confirmed it was 100% cotton, thank goodness, and the towel, I knew, was cotton. Then it happened. I chanced upon the tag on the towel and read with dismay: 57% cotton, 32% polyester, 11% rayon.

Sighing, I finished my thread, folded the towel up and put aside MISTAKE #9.

Was it too early to go to bed? It was 2:30 PM.

“You could knit!” Ilsa suggested. “I could open the knitting book for you!” I slumped. Having people do so many menial things for me was unfamiliar and exhausting. It felt like a weird new kind of meditation retreat: I just sat in my armchair and watched other people do things: wrap Christmas presents, make coffee, scroll on their phones, do homework, open mail… not touching plastic meant I couldn’t do any of it.

MISTAKE #10 came when I tried to make dinner and automatically touched the kitchen timer. This was followed in rapid succession by:

MISTAKE #11: dishwasher rack. AGAIN.

MISTAKE #12: colander handle.

MISTAKE #13: cheese grater.

By the end of the day I had resorted to averting extreme boredom by reading the classifieds in the free newspaper circular that comes every week with our mail. I also perused a jaunty article entitled The Various Types of Glaucoma and Their Symptoms.

When I headed to bed, my hand stopped by the lamp on the nightstand, hovering by the plastic switch— HA! — it almost got me.

I still hate plastic and everything it is doing to us, but now I have a newfound understanding of what we are really up against. Who knew that in only a few short decades our society could have so thoroughly encased ourselves in mysterious plastic chemicals, to the point that doing without them immobilizes us?

Recently I happened upon an article that was published in the New York Times entitled Life Without Plastic Is Possible. It’s Just Very Hard.

I beg to differ- and I speak from experience.

Buying the Future, One Giant Egyptian Cucumber at a Time

Year Of No Garbage, , , , ,

If I’ve learned one thing this year, it’s that we can’t recycle our way out of the plastic problem. If I’ve learned a second thing, it’s that we can’t buy our way out of it either.

It’s too bad, because if there’s one thing Americans are really, really good at, it’s buying things to make ourselves feel better. I don’t just mean wine and chocolate-chip-cookie-dough ice cream; I mean buying specific products to signal our value system, and make us feel like we are creating something good in the world while also buying ourselves more stuff.

We buy plastic products decorated with pink to “benefit breast cancer research;” we buy bucket soda to “benefit juvenile diabetes research.” If I look hard enough I bet I could find a cigarette whose sales benefit lung cancer research.

Bucket soda should just stay OUT of the health business, don’t you think?

The same goes for many of the supposedly “eco-friendly” products on the market. I mean, if you are a person who needs a straw for medical reasons that’s one thing, but does the world really need so many metal straws? Do we need gold ones and glass ones? Do we really need kits for them with little straw cleaning brushes and a convenient container pouch? Don’t you wonder how many of these things will end up being discarded after a year or two of hanging out at the bottom of our purses and fanny packs?

Sometimes we’re being sold ordinary products, but produced in a way that is supposed to make you feel good. You can often tell they’re using the Virtue Strategy by counting the buzzwords: this super-soft throw blanket is made with vegan-organic, responsibly sourced, ethically produced, biocompatible eucalyptus fiber!! Made by pandas!

My point is, when at least one aspect of the problem is an over-abundance of stuff- why do we think buying more stuff will fix it?

So I’ve been trying NOT to buy stuff in the name of sustainability. Then recently I was given a gift certificate for my birthday to the eco-friendly-product website Earth Hero and I was excited to check it out, although a little apprehensive. Would I find items that would really help me to live garbage-free? Or would it be just regular shopping, but with more trendy adjectives?

My reaction was mixed. There were a few things for sale on Earth Hero that I thought were just plain silly. Food huggers? Do we really need a specific product to keep our avocado halves from turning brown in the fridge? Bamboo flatware sets for school lunches? I’ve been putting stainless steel flatware in my kids’ lunch boxes since kindergarten and so far no one has sought psychiatric counseling over it.

Do avocados really need hugs this badly?

After surfing around the site I selected three things I was curious to try out with my gift certificate:

– Two Toothbrushes made from bamboo and castor bean oil

– A set of “Heirloom Mayan Loofah Scrubbers” (sponges)

– A Stainless Steel Rectangle To Go Container

Paper Tape is Sexy!

When the box showed up the other day I was delighted to note that Earth Hero had used paper tape to close the box: Yay! Ten points to Gryffindor! Inside the box I was impressed again by the lack of plastic packaging: paper held the sponges together and paper boxes enclosed the toothbrushes.

Then I noticed that the steel food container had vinyl stickers on it- ugh. Minus five points for Gryffindor.

By this time you may be wondering- hey wait… isn’t the lid on that food container also plastic? The Earth Hero website assures me this product is “plastic free”- so what gives?

My order

The lid, as it turns out, is made of silicone. And whether or not silicone is a kind of plastic depends— like so many of the definitions I’ve been seeking out this year— a whole lot on who you’re talking to.

The argument goes like this: silicone is made from sand, and therefore is a natural product more akin to rubber than plastic. But hold on! Because Life Without Plastic, which is another eco-friendly online vendor, argues pretty convincingly that silicone should not be considered harmless or eco-friendly.

“Like any plastic polymer, silicones are synthetic and include a mix of chemical additives derived from fossil fuels… Silicone does not biodegrade or decompose (certainly not in our lifetimes),” they explain on their website. “Silicones are very persistent in the environment.”

Contrast this with the heirloom loofah sponges which are 100% plant fiber. Giant Egyptian Cucumber to be exact, which is officially the coolest name for a plant I have ever heard. According to the package, when you are done with it, you can toss it in your compost or bury it in your garden and it will degrade in 30 days. My previous sponges were Ocelo, which are made of cellulose (wood pulp) but came with a tougher, “scrubby” component made of plastic, not to mention being encased in plastic packaging, so I consider this a big eco-upgrade.

And here’s the thing: although I was prepared to sacrifice some degree of effectiveness in exchange for biodegradability, the loofah sponge works noticeably better than my old Ocelo favorite. The bamboo toothbrush is kind of crazy- I can only say it feels substantial— like something Fred Flintstone might use— but seems to work every bit as well as my old plastic one.

Is no one but me bothered by the PLASTIC FREE SOLUTIONS label made out of plastic?

The food container is my least favorite of the group, not just because of the silicone lid, but also because I find that seeing the leftovers in the fridge is key to getting them eaten, so I like glass best. You can even find older Pyrex at junk and antique shops that has glass lids, and they also sell some at the Vermont Country Store, although as far as I can tell in-store only, not online. But I’m glad I had the opportunity to learn more about silicone, which seems like yet another deceptive switcheroo: an attempt to trade one bad, landfill-ready product for another: Throw away all your plastic Tupperware and replace it with earth-friendly silicone!! And next week we’ll come up with something else to replace that!

In Year of No Sugar, we were shocked to realize that the health food store, or health food aisle at our supermarket, was often every bit as bad a culprit for using excess sugar as everywhere else, and sometimes worse. (If you don’t believe me, try checking out the sugar content of “healthy” breakfast cereals, keeping in mind that 25 grams of sugar is equivalent to a candy bar.) There’s something about being told that you’re Doing The Right Thing— the healthy thing, the environmental thing— that seems to give us license to turn off our normal healthy skepticism. When that happens, we can end up doing precisely the opposite of what we wanted to do in the first place.

So don’t take things at face value. Don’t buy reusable plastic to take the place of disposable plastic: it is still plastic. Don’t buy glass or metal straws if you really don’t have to use a straw in the first place. And for crying out loud don’t buy an avocado-hugger, because you should really send that money to the Giant Egyptian Cucumber farmers instead.

I hear they’re very biocompatible.