HeyJaredChicken Fried Mascara
Chicken Fried Mascara is a community for those navigating the messy midlife mayhem. No topic is off-limits as we dive headfirst into the complexities of this transformative stage of life.
- Indexed issues, last 90 days
- 8
- Latest publication
- Sep 17, 2026
- Audience
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- Earliest in this view
- Jul 4, 2026
Latest issues
Grief Has No Time Frame (opens the original)
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It seems like yesterday that two people were getting ready for their wedding day. A day we celebrated for 23 years. September 18th will mark 27 years. September 20th will be four years since he died.I’m writing this from the Honda dealership, where I am waiting for my car to be serviced. There is life all around me. People talk on phones, employees fist-bump as they pass each other, Martha Stewart shaves chocolate on the television, and somewhere deep in the service bay, they change my car’s oil
adrenaline drops and grief (opens the original)
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Four years ago tonight, I slept in the same bed with my husband for the last time. The rest of his days were spent in a hospital bed. I’m sitting here, in our bed, a place I have spent many hours in over the last four years, knowing it’s searing outside, yet the light has softened at 430 in the afternoon, reminding me that autumn is coming and, with it, the dark days of winter. These are the dark days of my soul. Combined with things in my life that I will never share here. Stories that aren’t m
Chicken Scratch (opens the original)
Kinda Blue (opens the original)
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I’m feeling blue since last night and have been sitting, trying to figure out where these feelings are coming from. Last night, I cried myself to sleep. Today, I woke up with aching joints and a general sense of malaise. I asked all the questions. “Did I change my estrogen patch on time?” Yes. (At least I have a few.) “Have I eaten enough today?” Yes. “Am I hydrated?” Yes. It dawned on me a little while ago. My body is keeping the score. <a class="image-link image2 is-viewable-img" href="https:/
Decentering (opens the original)
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Every Wednesday, I open my laptop in the bedroom and log into therapy. And every Wednesday, I cut invisible wounds open and bleed.Today was no different.This journey over the last six-plus years has been arduous. As I sit here, in the same seat where I go to therapy and often write these pieces, I feel the raw wounds fighting me, not wanting to open onto the page. But what my heart wants and what my brain wants are two entirely different things.We discussed the difference between isolating and i
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