Eden M. Kennedy has acted impulsively in ways she now regrets.

Well, now I've done it

Well, now I've done it

My hair was looking a little shaggy so Jack suggested I use his clippers to even up the back. As a tool-using humanoid, I thought this made a lot of sense, and then I promptly buzzed a bald spot onto my scalp. You see where it went from there.

Initial reactions from the public:

  1. "That is every woman's dream."
  2. "You can pull it off. You have a good head shape."
  3. "Yeah, a lot of girls in the ashram would do that when they were looking for a fresh start."
  4. A shocked expression that evolved into a sort of scolding twinkle that said to me, "I hope you learned your lesson; let's never speak of it."
  5. Mirthful silence

And then the weather turned chilly! 

I love fall just as it's beginning, when it's cool in the shade but still warm in the sun. But I keep forgetting about being nearly bald and I walk out into the world wearing a nice, warm coat and very little hair. Every time I hit shade my scalp wrinkles up in shock, but when I walk back into the sun there is bliss. Bliss

There's also the beauty of a hot shower raining directly upon skin that's never felt that sensation unmediated by hair. Washing my scalp with a bar of soap and then rubbing warm sesame oil all over my head. Sigh.

Makeup and earrings are no longer optional, however, and I seem to overdress for the plainest of errands. There's a part of me that's sure I'm going to get called a rude name by some yahoo. Every time I think I might be too old to be policed for the way I look, a dude decides to take time out of his busy day to tell me I make him want to barf. It's happened recently enough to remind me that as a middle-aged woman I'm still not invisible, despite the claims and hopes of popular culture.

There are hats, but fuck hats. Why should I hide the most Buddhist of haircuts? Plenty of Black ladies walk around with hair this short and they look amazing, I rationalize to myself. 

I don't know if I'm going to keep it. My husband loves it, though. This was his plan all along!

January 1, 2016

January 1, 2016

The State of My 51-year-old Body As Witnessed By My 14-year-old Son

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