With a moniker like The Virtuous Consumer, I feel the pressure. I go through my day convinced that lurking about are those who want to expose me as less-than-virtuous, as someone whose pleas for a better, kinder, healthier world could — indeed should — be ignored. After all, I imagine them snorting with indignation, I saw her idle her car in the driveway this morning.
I confess I’m NOT the Virtuous Consumer. I use Zip-loc bags (though I do use them over and over and over and….). I drive my kids to school when it’s too cold to bike (or I don’t want to wreck my hair by donning a bike helmet). I’ve even been spotted in the drive-thru at McDonald’s after promising my six-year-old son whatever meal he wanted in exchange for allowing yet another ultrasound on his private parts during our most recent health scare (unfounded, it thankfully turns out). I drink Diet Pepsi, for goodness’ sake. I’m hardly a paragon of virtue.
So I use the word “virtuous” with tongue planted firmly in cheek.