Everything is beautiful

I always thought that vision was pretty objective - that photons bounce off an object and are received by your retina, converted into an electro-chemical language your cells can understand, and made into an image by your brain. Photons seem pretty objective, the retina is objective, the conversion of photons into chemistry sounds like an objective process, but the brain...it's that pesky brain that's the problem, integrating a mass of non-vision-related signals that create an image that can be altered (both subtly and grossly) by expectation and mood.

Case 1: fat one day, thin the next. For some reason I can't explain, perhaps it's finally losing all that baby weight, I've been obsessed with bikinis. I keep surfing the Figleaves web site looking for just the right suit that will flatter my newly thin body but still minimize all those unsightly lumpies and squishies (not to mention the softy, wrinkly formless indentation that once was my bellybutton). I am too embarrassed to share how many bikinis I have bought this year because who really needs more than one? One of my long-standing obsessions is to get a bikini bottom with dangly string and/or beads hanging off of the hips (I think this is a holdover from those hip-scarf-wearing, bellydancing days). I finally bought this one. When it first arrived two weeks ago, when I was still in a sad place, I tried it on and was disgusted with myself. I couldn't believe that I kept trying to buy a two-piece suit when clearly I am too fat and too old for this. What was I thinking? I was way, way too fat. I could very clearly see all the lumps and bulges in the mirror. They were disgusting and I was contemplating returning the suit (return shipping is free), but it was too much trouble to box it up and walk the half-block from work to the post office. Cut to last Saturday, the first real day that I woke up happy in many weeks. I tried on the very same bikini bottom (and I find it unlikely that I have lost any weight - if anything my lack of exercise and indulgence of my sweet tooth make either staying the same or even gaining weight more likely), and it looked really, really good. I did NOT look fat at all. I did not even have any lumps rolling over the top of the suit. It was so odd, it's what started me wondering about how subjective sight really is, and how much my mood affects how I see myself, not just intellectually but also physically. And the scientist in me wants to see if I can devise some sort of test to evaluate my sadness levels based on how fat I think I look. I'm just saying that it's something to think about.

Case 2: flowers are suddenly beautiful. Usually once a week, the hubby and I have lunch together. I'd heard about a take-out French place that does great sandwiches and salads, so the hubby and I went there on Tuesday, although it was about a ten minute walk through some residential neighborhoods. I was amazed at how beautiful everything was, the air was warm, the sun was shining, and the flowers were all so beautiful - every single one, even the little weeds and dandelions. The colors were so rich and alive. Hubby said that he'd been reading about dysthymia, and how people sometimes think they are manic-depressive when really they are only depressive, it's just that when they finally make it to the place that everyone calls normal it's such a change that to them it seems manic. I know what they mean. Everything is suddenly and completely beautiful! (Well, downtown was still smelly and inhabited by gross people, but most everything was beautiful).

So, chickens (Heather Havrilesky, another favorite Salon writer, is always calling us readers "chickens" in an offhand and affectionate kind of way), mood controls sight, we see what we want to see, and I so enjoy having everything beautiful again. I feel kind of bad, knowing that it won't last, but I'm determined to enjoy it as much as possible now while I can.