For the last few days, I've been contemplating about what to write. A lot has happened. Hair Appointment #2, for one, which involved stepping out on my hairdresser of three years to place my head in the hands of two men auditioning for the role of future hair guru. One was named Cesare (pronounced Say Czar), a Lebanese man who slightly resembled Andre the Giant and confessed he liked to get out of speeding tickets by appearing in front of the judge and proclaiming he didn't speak English. Running his fingers through my hair, he made a few contemplative grunts and then proclaimed I needed his fabulous caviar deep conditioning treatment. 50 minutes and $50 later, I had the softest hair ever. Was he the one? Alas, no. A few minutes later, he took the front section of my hair, twirled it between his fingers and then SNIP...cut it two inches shorter than I asked him to.
Then there was Curtis, a man who owned his own salon, shampooed my hair like he was scaling fish, and who has been living with a woman for the last two years who drives him crazy with her incessant spending, messiness and inability to relate to his Chinese heritage. Hmmm...pretty good hair color, but if he wants to be my hairdresser emeritus, I'm going to have to show him the shampoo scene in Out of Africa. A woman's gotta have a good shampoo.
And then there was Thanksgiving, and the Danielle Steele novel that involved driving across Texas on Thanksgiving Day (making turkey sandwiches in the back seat), only to arrive in DFW for a wedding weekend that involved three days of eating, drinking, reuniting, lots of drama, one fist fight and the funky chicken.
But (there's always a but, isn't there?)...as this is a blog about body image and weight loss, let's talk shop, shall we? Of course, this is the season of overindulgence and forgotten discipline. I have to admit, I was convinced...CONVINCED...I would come home five pounds closer to my goal and feeling on top of the world. Instead, one day of out-of-control eating become three. And I came back to California four pounds heavier and feeling miserable!
I've been thinking a lot about a book I read in college. It was called The Structure of Scientific Revolutions by Thomas Kuhn. At the center of his philosophy is a concept called a paradigm shift. According to Kuhn, a paradigm "is not simply the current theory, but the entire worldview in which it exists, and all of the implications which come with it."
Ok...stay with me here. Kuhn goes on to talk about the ultimate outcome...the paradigm shift. He says "When enough significant anomalies have accrued against a current paradigm, the scientific discipline is thrown into a state of crisis. During this crisis, new ideas, perhaps ones previously discarded, are tried. Eventually a new paradigm is formed, which gains its own new followers, and an intellectual 'battle' takes place between the followers of the new paradigm and the hold-outs of the old paradigm."
Best example of a paradigm shift? That the world is not flat. I would have loved to be a fly on the wall for that moment.
I'm not sure how many of you have seen this, but I've been thinking about it a lot lately. It's a famous perceptual illusion that originally appeared on a German postcard. The idea is for the brain to switch between seeing a young girl and an old woman once it realizes the existence of the other. Which one do you see?
I love this idea...the idea of something clicking into place that allows you to see, for the very first time, a new person...while simultaneously honoring your old self (and by old, I mean former).
A paradigm shift.