linda may

It is mid-April, and Portland is bursting with colorful blooms of spring. Meanwhile I am sick in bed with a cold, adding things to my Amazon cart. Because what else would I do when not feeling well? Sleep? Read? Make some tea? Watch an old movie? Take some medicine? Nope, apparently I tend to shop through any discomfort. I am also 3.5 months into an experiment in not buying stuff. I’ve done pretty well so far, and while I won’t win any prizes in frugality (I’m still eating out, buying coffee, getting my hair cut, traveling) I am giving myself credit at the very least for re-aligning my priorities. I buy too much clothing, too many books, too many home decor items (how many vintage vases and coffee mugs does one house need, really?) and apparently way, way too much lotion.

Then, last week, I started to run out of lotion. In a rare moment of thriftiness, I cut the tube open to use up the last half ounce. When I finally threw out the empty mangled tube I thought, “Gee I might need to buy some more lotion.” In the same moment, I realized I probably had some spare lotion somewhere. Maybe it would be another month or two before I had to buy more.

And then I decided to actually take stock of my lotion inventory, a tip shared by author Joshua Becker in his book Minimalist Home. In the chapter devoted to minimizing bathrooms Becker advises, “Group things by kind,” and “Eliminate unneccessary duplicates.” What you see to the right of this article is the the evidence of my spending problem: 25 containers of lotion. Now, you may notice if you look closely, it’s more precisely: 2 tubes of eye cream, 2 tubes of face moisturizer, 5 tubes of sunscreen, 4 containers of itch relief lotion, 10 containers of body lotion and 1 tube of hand cream. I’m certainly willing to rationalize that a person might need a couple of each of these products. But 5? And 10? 25? Am I the Imelda Marcos of moisturizer?

Becker also cites a Good Housekeeping article from 2015 that reports the average American woman owns 40 make up products. Perhaps lotions and creams don’t count as cosmetics, but either way, I’m fairly certain now that I am worse than average.

An interview of 3 dermatologists in Real Simple magazine advises that most lotions and sunscreens are still fine to use within 2-3 years – so long as they are unopened and stored appropriately, which it’s safe to say, very few of my 25 products are. And many of them are older than 3 years.

I’m not above justifying that a few of the products pictured have been discontinued, and I <may> have chosen to stock up on extras of my favorite eye cream and body lotion knowing they were no longer available. But 25 containers? Unless I’m very mistaken, I probably have at least a year’s supply of lotion on my hands. But in truth, it turns out I am a very bad judge of how much I need. A quick online search of “how long does it take to use up 6 oz of lotion” reveals that some people go through a regular size bottle in 4 weeks – and some stretch it out for a year. I’m guessing I’m somewhere in between, but I really have no idea how much I use; I just keep buying, and buying, and buying… why? So I don’t ever have to experience the mild discomfort of being out of lotion? Is running out of a basically non-essential item worse than amassing a collection of 25 packages that take up 2 places at my dining room table?

Conservatively, I probably spent just shy of $400 on these products over the past 2-4 years. And much of it, now that I have stared my ridiculous collection in the face, is inevitably bound for the trash/recycling heap, or maybe someone on my Buy Nothing group. I feel wasteful, foolish, embarrassed, extravagant. But what stands out the most is the utter disconnect in my brain from what I have purchased and what I already have. I need a moment of pause when I think “I’m running out of… or I need a new… or a different kind of…” anything.

In the end, I only bought tea, dish gloves, flossers and laundry soap from Amazon, all things I am genuinely out of, or that were on my approved items list in January. But it took a Herculean act of willpower to delete from my cart $73 of the chapstick I am obsessed with. (That may be next week’s post.) I need to develop a habit of learning to use and appreciate what I have. And maybe to stop trying to solve a momentary feeling of worry with a purchase.