Using tote bags at the grocery store. Refusing straws. Taking my reusable coffee mug to a local cafe. But after another Plastic-Free July, I realized that my plastic-free efforts weren’t anything new. And actually, my efforts no longer felt good enough compared to being a zero-waster—that is, fitting a year’s amount of trash in a single mason jar.
Ten years ago, I saw the documentary Bag It and started advocating against plastic bags and began using reusable water bottles and carrying tote bags everywhere. That’s when I first learned about the Great Pacific Garbage Patch and how plastic waste harms marine life. As the film predicted, things have gotten way worse. Every year, eight million metric tons of plastic enter the ocean on top of the estimated 150 million metric tons currently circulating in various marine environments. The Great Pacific Garbage Patch is twice the size of Texas, and 10 years ago, it was already the size of Texas. The Ocean Cleanup gives me hope, along with local groups like Recology and the Surfrider Foundation, but there’s also the problem of the U.S. running out of landfill space.
Australia may be the world leader of Plastic-Free July, but more people in the Bay Area are taking action by joining the zero-waste movement. Inspired by local zero-waste bloggers Bea Johnson at Zero Waste Home and Kathryn Kellogg at Going Zero Waste, I wanted to step up my “saving the world” game. But instead of tallying up what’s in my stinky bins, I thought I’d try being a zero-waster for one day. The rule of thumb is what you would think: throwing zero (or fewer) things away, especially single-use plastics, which end up in landfills or the ocean. Easier said than done.
Here’s how my day of trying to be a zero-waste supermom went:
6:45 a.m.
I wake up and go to the bathroom. Dang, I just used some toilet paper. Reminder: use a washcloth, or get a bidet attachment to minimize T.P. I spritz my face with White Sage Wellness’ Triple Goddess Anointing Spray. The bottle is made of reusable brown glass, but the top is comprised of two pieces of plastic. I could reuse it or list any used bottles on a freecycle site, like Bunz.
Our son, Donovan, likes to pick the plastic stickers off store-bought fruit, and I tell myself we’re reusing them as fine-motor-skill toys.
I brush my teeth with a bamboo toothbrush. I realize that when I replace it, I’ll have to pluck out the plastic bristles with pliers and throw them away because the plastic won’t decompose like the bamboo will. But that’s better than throwing away a chunky plastic toothbrush. I throw on some clothes from before my son was born, about two years ago, so they could be considered vintage. They certainly feel used.
6:55 a.m.
I enter my son’s room singing “Good Morning, Starshine,” change his diaper, and dress him. We don’t use cloth diapers or a local diaper service, but we use Seventh Generation, which seems like a better sustainable baby product because they use recycled content. If there’s a number-two waiting for me, I flush the poop but death-grip the diaper so I don’t accidentally drop any wipes in the toilet and contribute to a massive fatberg in Bay Area sewers. His wardrobe is a mix of hand-me-downs and gifts from Grandma. We use diaper-pail garbage bags made from 20% recycled materials, but—sigh—we can do better.
7:15 a.m.
My husband has already made French-press coffee and cut up some fruit — bonus points when they’re from our fruit trees. Our son, Donovan, likes to pick the plastic stickers off store-bought fruit, and I tell myself we’re reusing them as fine-motor-skill toys. But it could be worse. If given a choice between balloons or stickers, I choose stickers all the way because we all know where balloons can end up. Parental side note: there are compostable Band-Aids!
I pack my son’s food in his lunchbox. I cringe when I throw in string cheese. I’m transitioning our family from Tupperware to ECOlunchbox and Stasher Bags, but what am I supposed to do with old Tupperware? My breakfast is homemade granola (gold star for me) and store-bought yogurt (minus a gold star). I have yet to find a grocery store close to me that sells yogurt in glass jars, but I’m keeping my eyes peeled. Food waste goes into our compost bucket, which we empty into our green bin at the end of each day.
7:45 a.m.
I drive Donovan to his nanny share. We live in the ’burbs, and it would take 45 minutes for me to bike there. Driving takes 15 minutes. Plus, I can run errands on the way home. Plus, I haven’t ridden my bike since before he was born, so I’m just circling around the fact that I’m being lazy. If his daycare were closer, I would try to get back in the saddle (or have my husband do it). On the drive, I finish my coffee in my reusable to-go cup. If I were in Berkeley and wanted a refill, I could take advantage of their reusable-coffee-cup program.
I don’t take public transportation for daycare trips, but my husband and I share one car, so that’s less waste, right?
8:45 a.m.
I arrive back home and take a shower. I use a bar of soap (not body wash in a plastic container) and usually shampoo and condition my hair every two to three days—due to equal parts lack of effort and conservation of the plastic bottles they’re in. I haven’t found bar shampoo I love (but please let me know if you have). I should use my husband’s metal razor for shaving, but I still use my girlie plastic razor with a refillable blade. When that razor dies, I’ll get a stainless-steel safety razor, which should last me an eternity.
A phaseout was announced for banning single-use plastic food containers by 2030. That’s in 11 years. We need to make changes now, people.
Beauty and makeup products are a zero-waste challenge, as I like trying new things. Lush is the original reusable beauty brand, but if you go to Credo in SF, you’ll find modern brands, such as Axiology’s recycled aluminum lipsticks and Kaejr Weis’ refillable mascara. I wear minimal makeup on most days, but I have dry skin, so I need moisturizers. For body products, I support local brands with glass packaging and plant-based ingredients, like Earth Tu Face.
Admittedly, $52 for a face wash is crazy, but how many glass containers can you find at Rite Aid? The thrifty option would be making my own products. That’s not high on the list because of a lack of time and energy — maybe for DIY Christmas presents. My husband and I share a natural deodorant, but I’d like to try a reusable-deodorant company, like by Humankind. I get dressed in clothes from my pre-child vintage wardrobe or in a consignment buy from a local shop such as Labels Luxury Consignment, Goodbyes, or Poshmark.
9:30 a.m.
I fill up my mason jar with water from our Soma water filter and get to work. When our filter wears out, I decide I’ll get an activated-charcoal stick to use with a glass bottle. As a writer, my job is relatively waste-free; most of my waste is banana peels and Post-its. A protein-bar wrapper often makes its way into my trash too; if it’s a Clif Bar, I could collect and recycle the wrapper through their TerraCycle program.
When I go into offices or have appointments in the city, I take BART, bring a reusable water bottle, and pack snacks. Retailers and vendors in San Francisco have recently stopped selling plastic straws, stirrers, and other small plastic pieces with food items, replacing them with paper and reusable materials. Right on. But in February, a phaseout was announced for banning single-use plastic food containers by 2030. That’s in 11 years. We need to make changes now, people. Recycling isn’t enough to make a difference anymore, especially since China is no longer accepting our recycling.
But if I haven’t mastered the art of buying a to-go lunch using my containers (versus using the supplied single-use plastics), how will everyone else? I’d need to leave the house with a backpack full of Tupperware and mason jars, with some for lending to others. Or I can assemble a zero-waste travel kit, a kit that I could bring everywhere with a water bottle, cloth napkins, a reusable straw, a food container, and reusable cutlery.
12:30 p.m.
Lunch is usually a homemade sando or salad, and I squeeze in a quick trip to the grocery store. I bring my own tote bags — I keep a stockpile in my car — and also try to keep used plastic bags inside those for wet or bulk items. But the grocery store is arguably the biggest zero-waste challenge of all. If I want strawberries, am I supposed to take them out of the plastic container? No, not cool. I can put potatoes in my cart, but what about items in sealed containers, like those plastic-suctioned beets, refrigerated pasta, and Talenti Gelato? Lucky for us, Rainbow Grocery and Berkeley Bowl have refrigerated bulk sections where you can stock up on some of these provisions.
The best habits to get into are buying from the bulk sections and shopping at farmers’ markets. (Don’t forget your refillable bags and containers.)
3:45 p.m.
I got my period–bleh. I’ve been using a menstrual cup for years, which is better than wasteful tampons. I could take it a zero-waste step further with Thinx period-proof underwear. Are they gross? Not as gross as the chemicals in tampons, which could make my cramps worse.
4:45 p.m.
I leave to pick up my son from daycare. Where did that Pellegrino in my drink holder come from?! I grabbed one from the fridge for the drive. Why am I not using my SodaStream and reusable to-go cup? Because it’s the end of the day, and I’m rushing. At least the can is recyclable.
But not everything is, and many of us are confused about what we can and can’t recycle. If you’re wondering what to do with those paint cans sitting in your garage or what to do with those empty medication bottles, local recycling resource RecycleWhere has the answer.
5:45 p.m.
We arrive home, and it’s straight to my husband and I tag-teaming dinner and playtime. For my sanity, I usually plan meals a day or two ahead, which reduces food waste and saves money. On other days, we rely on heaven-sent Planted Table, an Oakland-based meal provider committed to zero waste.
We usually go out for one meal or order in once a week. I wonder how I can make our favorite Chinese-food restaurant halt their use of plastic to-go containers. And I usually forget to bring containers for leftovers. Inspired by California lawmakers who’ve challenged the plastic industry to reduce production, I realize I can set an example in my local community. I could tell the Chinese restaurant to use eco-friendly containers. I could host a “how to live zero-waste” powwow among my mom friends. Then my son makes me laugh, and I temporarily forget about my zero-waste-supermom ideas.
7:30 p.m.
After Donovan goes to bed, my husband and I clean up and catch up. Sometimes we talk about home improvements, like how to fashion a custom kitchen island from a place like Urban Ore. I also scour local buy/sell/trade Facebook groups for used toys and furniture. I consider the pros of renting furniture or just throwing more pillows on the floor since we have a toddler.
9:45 p.m.
I meditate and replay my day, thinking about what I could have done differently, including 10 things I could do to seriously live zero-waste. Then I’m grateful for another good day and everything I have.
I read Stealing Fire, purchased from Amazon. I get library books for my son, but I like buying my books new from Amazon or used from a local bookstore, like Spectator Books.
But, as I remember, Amazon really needs to figure out their packaging-waste issues. If the world’s biggest retailer and shipper can’t get their act together — and they’re trying — it must be because it’s more costly. Being a zero-waster when you’re living on a budget is doable in the Bay Area, where there are even zero-waste school supplies, but what about the rest of the country? Where Walmart and Starbucks reign, single-use plastics are still king. This is yet another progressive movement that the Bay Area is at the forefront of. However, it’s cheaper to make your own coffee and prepare your own food at home — those are zero-waste basics anyone can adopt.
I open my book. There’s beauty in the crisp feel and paper smell of a new book. There’s also beauty in a book with weathered edges and a past life. New or old—it’s about the mix for me and when it makes sense to conserve or reuse. For now, I’m OK with being a less-waster rather than a zero-waster. But let’s talk in 10 years. If Earth still exists
