I am no doctor, but that’s never stopped anyone from prescribing (is that the most medicine-y word?) a diet, cleanser, or alternative healing method involving tiny needles and the crystals from that scary Jim Henson movie. With this in mind, I am announcing a innovative weight loss scheme guaranteed to make sure you don’t have to work AND save you money:
Don’t buy any food that has a disposable packaging–and boom! You’re done! (As my doctor said after my last colonoscopy).
Nowhere has my life been more affected by attempting to not produce any recycling or trash than in my diet. The immediate health benefits are:
1) No convenience store food, other than bananas
2) No walk in pizza places or other fast food (the ubiquitous paper plate, the standard styrofoam)
3) No soda, juice, or beer.
I’m pretty much down to one meal a day, and the rest is fruit, vegetables, bananas and bananas. So many bananas.
Everything comes in packaging (try naming ten things in a grocery store that doesnt have some sort of packaging). And if it isn’t packaging, it’s something else: I can’t eat organic fruits, because by law, each organic item needs to have a sticker label, which is of course, trash. As a result, I’m up to about 3 bananas a day, and living by the bulk food section–lentils, couscous, beans. Beans for breakfast is a sad undertaking–the reason, in my opinion as an alternative historian, that the British Empire fell. Beans in the morning just takes the fight out of you. Don’t do it.
The other option, is of course to eat out. An arguable cheat, as it is really just paying a premium to have the “trash burden” put out of sight, but for the sake of me blathering on some more, let’s discuss, oh implied reader.
Cheap restaurants are out-paper plates, etc. But even the better ones are often rife with the odd trap: packets of ketchup, paper napkins, paper tablecloths (I never claimed in any element of class on my part). A cocktail comes with a plastic stirrer, a beer on tap comes with a cardboard coaster or a napkin stuck underneath it’s sweaty bottom.
So in short this project is a great way to lose weight, excuse yourself from bringing your own beer to a party, and justify a 5-star restaurant. It’s also a great underscoring of how disposability has really worked itself into so many different quotidian crevices. I think I won’t mind going back to a slice of pizza and a ginger beer when I want it, but it’ll be harder to shake the almost creeped out feeling I have regarding how normal and integrated waste is as part of our lives. It’s oppressive when you start thinking about it.