I got my hair darkened a week or two ago – right before my birthday, which is a great time to do that. Before, it was blonde with a purple streak and now it is kind of a chestnut – with a purple streak that is less noticeable. I’m not sure how long I will keep it.

I’ve been attending a water bootcamp class once a week for about two months. My classmates are all lovely women, kind and friendly.

And now they think I’m a new student.

Apparently my hair color was so distinctive that this new do has made me unrecognizable, because not only did the whole class introduce themselves again, the instructor followed me from station to station to make sure I knew what I was doing.

It pissed me off at first. Many things do, these days.

But then it just kept getting funnier. And confessing after allowing it to go on as long as I did just seemed silly.

Now, my plan is change my hair back in two weeks and see if they all ask me where I’ve been.

Middle age: when you become invisible, even to other middle aged women.

I turned off comments not because your thoughts are unwelcome, but because I can’t handle cheerleaders any better than I can critics right now. Your freely given likes are appreciated.

I just started self-editing. Moving sentences around and deleting things that seem too much/not enough of something. That means it’s time to quit.

I know this is short. I have to start slow or I will talk myself out of the whole thing. The troll in my head will remind me how terrible my unedited free write is, how old I am, how it’s all pointless because if I wanted to write I should have done it already.

The reason your inner troll is so hard to silence is she is the worst version of yourself, come to silence your best. And you believe her because she speaks in your voice.

I’m not as fun to read right now.

I’m working on it.

Things for which I am grateful:

Toddlers in tutus in the halls at the gym.

120 days without accidentally walking into the men’s locker room.

Free muffins.