I've tried hard to not mention my most recent dieting excursion too much, just because I suspect readers get tired of my whining after a while. However, I think it’s important to study the different stages of food consumption, if only to gain valuable insight into one of the most basic needs of human survival. Plus, I didn't have anything else to write about this week.

First, at any given point in my life, I am always doing one of two things. No matter if you catch me at 2 a.m. on the morning on January 6, 1994, or on a lazy afternoon on September 29, 2013, you will find me in one of the following states. Either:

1.    I am on a diet; or
2.    I am gaining weight.

There is no other possible situation that I might be in. I’ve heard rumor that some people have a third state of being, some sort of made-up term called “maintaining the same healthy weight over a prolonged period of time,” but I’m pretty sure that’s a myth, like unicorns or dragons.

Now that we’ve established the two possible states of being, let’s look at the sub-groups of dieting.

1.    The “I’ve Just Started My Diet” Phase

This is when you’ve just made the mental and financial commitment to follow a regimented eating plan. Already doesn’t sound fun, right? You will turn in to a whiny brat during this phase. You will always be hungry. You will develop homicidal feelings towards those who eat real food in front of you, and start making serious plans to end their French-fry-filled lives. You suspect that if you bury them in the back yard, it would count as exercise, and will get you closer to your goal. You will stare at your plate heaped with boneless chicken breast grilled in a garlic mustard sauce, fresh steamed cauliflower, and a half-cup of savory rice pilaf, and think “That’s it? That’s ALL I get?” You will weep. Copiously.

2.     The “Thanks, But No Thanks” Phase

This is the stage at which your stomach has shrunk a little from starvation, and you’re starting to get in the groove of things. You turn down cake at work or cookies at your mother’s house because you can tell just by looking at these fabulous, sugary drops of heaven that they're not worth the calories. You smugly measure out your eleven Doritos (yup, that’s how much one serving is) and pretend to be satisfied. You are not.

3.    The “People Are Starting to Notice” Phase

Probably the best phase of the dieting cycle, this is when your family and coworkers will start to notice your weight loss efforts. Your skinny friends (if you didn't kill and bury them in Phase 1) may start to offer you their hand-me-downs. It will feel good. You will start to believe you could possibly maintain this healthy eating lifestyle change for the rest of your life. That’s right: you will begin to tell yourself outrageous lies.

4.    The “I’ve Had Just About Enough of This Lettuce Crap” Phase

You know this feeling. You’ve been dieting for months, and sure, you look good, but do you feel good? No. You feel like the only thing that will ever truly make you happy again is a Reese’s peanut butter cup sundae. Sure, your pants fit better, but your soul needs fat. It’s withering away. You have to—you must—feed it. Chocolate. Now.

Sadly, I’m in this fourth phase right now. I’m only four pounds away from my goal, but I must admit, I’ve had just about enough of this lettuce crap. I managed to stay on my diet today, but only because the vending machine at work is temporarily out of order. I can’t promise I’ll still be on it tonight. I pass at least two Friendly’s restaurants on my drive home from work, and the siren call of a peanut butter cup sundae might be too strong to resist. Today, I am on a diet. Tomorrow, I’ll  be gaining weight again.

On Monday, Jason sent me this text.

I suppose seeing a large turtle in the back yard is exciting for some people. Personally, I’ve seen a lot of them in my lifetime, which is how I immediately knew what this one was intending to do.  When I was a kid, my dad caught a snapping turtle the size of Gamera that barely fit into an oil drum, and the memory of that beast snapping a tree limb in half has stuck with me all my life. Since then, I have preferred to maintain what I call a “preserving my digits and extremities”-type distance from snapping turtles.

Jason texted me a little while later. She’s still out there, he typed. I’m going to take more pictures.

This concerned me a little bit. I didn’t feel that Jason was paying this turtle the amount of respect she deserved. Please leave her be, I texted back. The worst possible time to approach a snapping turtle is when it is a female laying eggs. Guess what that is?  A FEMALE. LAYING EGGS.

About an hour later, Jason called me on my work line.

“The turtle’s digging holes in your flower bed,” he announced.

“Okay,” I said.

“I thought you’d be upset. She’s already dug up a half-dozen flowers,” he said, surprised.

“General rule of thumb that I like to live by: let snapping turtles do whatever they want. If she starts weaving a lei out of the flowers and inviting all the other turtles to dance the cha-cha with her, please let her.” The memory of Oil Drum Gamera still crunched in my head.

“She’s dug, like, three or four holes already,” he said.

“Okay. She’s just looking for exactly the right spot. I would advise letting her. Snapping turtles are allowed to be fussy. Also, and I can’t reiterate this enough, do NOT approach or touch her,” I said.

“Sheesh, I know already! I’m gonna go watch her,” he said, hanging up.

A short time later, I noticed that Jason had posted a video online of our snapping turtle laying her eggs in my carefully mulched flower bed. The video ended with an angry turtle charging at Jason’s phone. He did text me to assure me he still had all of his fingers and toes, so I felt a little better. Then he asked if I was okay with the fact that the flower bed was now a turtle hatchery. Baby snapping turtles, I texted back. Can’t wait.

He was off to work that afternoon, and of course, our girl hadn’t left the lawn yet. Can you please check the yard when you get home to make sure the snapping turtle didn’t get caught in the deer netting around the garden? he texted me. I read it twice and texted him back: And if she is caught in the netting . . . what, exactly, would you like me to do about it?

Nature: sometimes, it’s better to give it the healthy, hands-off respect it deserves.

I recently read an article about a college-age woman who went to class on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday in varying degrees of makeup (none, some, and lots) to test her classmates’ reactions. (Read it here: http://www.bustle.com/#/articles/26095-how-do-people-react-to-different-levels-of-makeup-i-decided-to-find-out.) She discovered that when she wore light makeup, as she was prone to do anyway, she received positive feedback.

 Desperately needing a blog idea, I thought I’d try to replicate the experiment. Would it make a difference if it was a 40-something woman who never wears makeup? If it took place at work instead of on campus? If I crammed it all in to three consecutive days instead of three days spread throughout the week? The results were shocking.

Wednesday: Here I am with no makeup. This is also a pretty clear depiction of how fuzzy my hair gets when it’s humid out. This is actually my everyday look; I often only wear makeup to weddings (or funerals, if I'm worried that I'll look more washed out than the corpse). This is not due to my confidence that I naturally look beautiful, but rather a result of my valuing sleep more than anything else. Putting on makeup would take away at least six minutes of time that would be better spent snoozing.

As this look was par for the course, I didn’t get any comments on this day. Sure, the guy at the gas station called me “ma’am,” but that’s nothing new. I finally asked one of the women I worked with to honestly critique my look.

“Um, I guess you look exhausted, but you always do. I just assumed you had eight kids or something.”

I was not pleased. “What am I, a Kennedy? I have no kids. This is my natural beauty.”

She smiled, kind of like she was gritting her teeth. “Sure, okay. Looks like you’ve got a fresh new zit on your chin. Might want to put some cover-up on that.”

Day One Conclusion: I look like a tired-looking old hag with acne.

Thursday: I had the most trouble with this look. My first attempt was to put on concealer, blush, and mascara. Apparently, this was not much different than “no makeup” because when I got to work, the receptionist asked me if my brood of children had kept me up all night. I added more blush, eyeliner, and light eye shadow. Better, though much like when I was in high school, I discovered that the more I tried to cover up my fresh new zit, the more attention the concealer drew to it. I cruised around the office space to gauge the results.

Sadly, I found that people were a lot chattier today. One co-worker who has always snubbed me asked me what my weekend plans were. Another told me I looked “different . . . but it’s nice.” Instead of giving me a boost, this made me feel a little crummy about how I normally look. Later in the day, I accidentally rubbed my eyes without thinking, leaving a trail of dried mascara crumbs along the side of my face that I didn’t know was there until I got home.

Day Two Conclusion: People seem to like the makeup, but not enough to tell me when it’s smeared across my face.

Friday: I was a little uncomfortable with the amount of makeup I was wearing, but I promised you all I’d go full glam, so I did. I got used to it quickly: wearing this much makeup was almost like wearing a mask. What a difference! I noticed immediately that the guy at the gas station couldn’t keep his eyes off of me. And when I got into work, everyone was commenting.

“Wow!”

“Unbelievable!”

And that was just the president and vice president of the company, respectively. As I passed coworkers in the hallway, they all started talking, either to me or about me. I couldn't believe it! Did wearing a lot of makeup really make that much of a difference? How shallow was our society?
When I got to my cubicle, a crowd formed. Everybody wanted to see my glamorous makeup job. I'll admit it: it felt good. All the attention made me feel like a total rock star!


Day Three Conclusion:  The reaction I got from my coworkers and random strangers pumped me so full of energy, all I wanted to do was rock and roll all night.

Conclusion: I hate to admit it, but wearing makeup really does matter. Yet I do still value sleep above all else, so I'll continue to wear the 'no makeup' look for a long time to come. However, I do think I'll be breaking out the "full makeup" look for the next wedding or funeral I attend.