Tupperware rocks

If you have managed to get through life without amassing an overflowing drawer and/or cupboard, or two, of mismatched plastic tubs of every shape, hue and size, then well done you.

For most of us, that ever expanding shrine, dedicated to plastic vessels which keep food fresh, is an inevitable part of growing up. 

Secret confession: I have always been a lover of Tupperware. 

Everything from the micro-pot (suitable only for salad dressing or raisins), and the humble and simplistic rectangle which evidences prior take-aways, to the newer super-turbo cliploc beasts that promise never to spill your soup nor slop your stew in your handbag as you head to work.

My fascination with tupperware now extends to my stoma. Who know that colostomy bags could come in every shape, size and finish AND with lids and bases that clip together to form a water and air-tight seal?

That 'clipping together' sound, originally patented by Tupperware as the only 'burping' seal,' is of course even more fundamental in my current situation. Soup in your handbag is irritating and inconvenient, but poo on your PJs (sorry to be explicit) is significantly less palatable and socially acceptable. 

The importance of matching lid and base is vital, and so the effective cataloguing and storage of my stoma Tupperware is my latest addiction. Things must remain ordered and sorted correctly, military precision prevents costly mistakes. 

Amazingly the premise is the same as for food; lid on, lid off, clip shut, stay fresh. Convenient, effective, downright marvellous. Who knew how far applications of Tupperware technology would come from their feted beginnings on the party circuit as an opportunity for female financial independence?

So, next time you order a take away or make a pack lunch, take a moment to stare at your humble Tupperware in appreciation. It does so much more than keep food fresh.

(All that remains is for me to sort out my food Tupperware as I do my stoma stuff... now that really would make my husband happy!)