tow truck thoughts.

The Sheriff has had a rough (last!) first week of classes. Classes themselves are fine. But everything else? Not so much. First was an intense flu-like illness that Meatball and I shared that incapacitated me for three days. But I kept my head up, excited to go see my best friend at Bard College on Friday night and then to my parents' house in PA for my mama's surprise 50th birthday party.

And then my ancient car (we're talkin' OLD, as in 1990 Honda Accord...my car is legal to drink!) decided to not start back up again after I made took a quick break to pee in Lee, MA. I spent my Friday afternoon and early evening talking to AAA and getting towed back to Midas to negotiate. I was not pleased.

Odd thing in all this was how nice to me people were. Now mind you, I am used to epic car trouble (especially, for some reason, on the way to Bard). I do not cry or get flustered or play the "I'm just a single white female and I'm so confused by MACHINERY!" role. But strangers in the parking lot, men and women, came over to try to help. Even though I knew it wasn't the battery, some dude insisted on giving my car a jump. Another man offered various opinions on what the trouble might be and even offered to call his AAA for me until I assured him mine worked fine too.

the sheriff, with car trouble.

The tow truck driver was enormously friendly, and kept apologizing for the fact that my car had picked a bad time (a Friday afternoon) to break down. When we got to Midas, once the manager told me there was no hope in fixing in that night, he personally offered me a ride home even after I told him I lived less than a mile away. He also offered to pay the six bucks in tolls that I owed the tow truck driver (who eventually insisted himself that he give me a ride back to Albright).

I could not help but think this behavior, while certainly coming from the kindness of their hearts, is cued and intensified by certain social markers I exhibit. I'm a white, blonde, young female. I'm reasonably pleasant looking, and very small (I recently realized that my floor lamp is taller than me. Problems). I was alone. I have no bling on my left hand. I was well-dressed for the weather in a wool coat and a scarf (definitely rockin' the yuppie look, compared to the driver in his John Deer hoodie). My car was old, but otherwise there were no overt signs that I might be on the lower end of the economic scale.

no mechanic really looks like this...

All of this creates a picture and an expected social outcome in people's minds: I'm not a threat. I'm not a criminal. I need their help. I deserve their help. I wonder if their behavior would've been different if I'd been dressed in shabbier clothes, if I'd not been white, if I'd been older, if I'd been a man (god forbid a black man). I wonder how much of our social interactions are driven by these cues and how we interpret them.

Or maybe all of these people were just being truly kind, seeing a lone driver experiencing car issues on a cold day and their reactions weren't even a little bit influenced by my skin tone, gender, size, looks. Seeing as I can't change those things just for the sake of a social experiment, I'll never know and can only wonder.

Just some pondering thoughts. Have you ever noticed yourself modifiying your behavior towards someone like this? Do you imagine that people do it to you?

Much love,
The Sheriff

link city up in here

This article speaks to one of my guilty pleasures: being a feminist obsessed with Mormon mommy blogs. Don't judge!

Breast implants linked to rare type of cancer? Oh good.

Warning: you could be pre-pregnant!

50 Positive Affirmations! 

Interesting but I'm not in total agreement: The sexual cost of female success.

Don't apologize before you say something: Do women begin more questions with "sorry" than men"

Read it and believe it, ya'll!

What Kermit Gosnell's horrifying abortion clinic in Philly has to teach us. Good shit.

How to beat a case of the uglies.

The unexamined racial dynamics (which got overshadowed by all of us being angry about the sexist dynamics!) of Kanye's "Monster" video.

word.

Much love,
The Sheriff

how not to be That Girl (no, not that one)

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I'm sure you (I'm talking to my Smithies now, though surely other colleges have this phenomenon) have heard of and encountered That Girl in your classes: she constantly raises her hand, talks slooowly, loves the sound of her own voice, says ridiculous shit, and, perhaps worst of all, corrects the professor (but NOT in a helpful way). But today I'm talking about the more common That Girl on our campus: the one who looks stressed, who seems like a zombie, who always seems to be whining about how much work she has. We've all been her at times, but guys? No one likes to be around her. So here's how to not be That Girl and how to have an amazing semester.

--Get a head start now. I do this with every class, every semester: get a head start on those readings NOW. Work at least a class ahead so that if something unexpected comes up (illness, friend has a break up and needs support, frat party), you are still not behind. Which means you won't be pulling all-nighters and being a cranky bitch.

--Take care of yourself. I know college is not particularly a time of prime healthy habits for most of us because we have youth on our side: our bodies can function amazingly well given the amount of abuse they sustain from lack of sleep, caffeine consumption, alcoholic indulgences, sedentary hours in class, and shitty dining hall food/late night PizzaAmore deliciousness. But I promise that you will feel so much more amazing if you a) sleep enough (you know what you need, I can't preach...plus I go to bed mad early as I am supremely boring), b) eat something green at least once a day (I know there is always salad available, no excuses ya'll!), c) take advantage of the free gym/Get Fit Smith classes. Movement feels so good (the walk from the Quad to class doesn't count), d) maybe consider cutting back on the caffeine. Research shows it has bad side effects (duh), but also that it doesn't have as much of an effect on your memory/alertness when you're indulging daily. I would offer some advice on not boozing it up, but that's futile: if you want to, do it safely and smart is all I advise (pace yourself, drink water, don't do shots, etc.).

--Have an orgasm every day. With a friend, by yourself, whatever. Just do it. You'll be amazed how much happier and calm you are (and how much better you sleep!). Oh My, as always, has the best selection. You can also shop online (Drugstore.com has an adult toy section, and you can also buy them on Amazon.com, if you're shy about the mail lady knowing you just bought a dildo).

--Remember that you're in control. What? Yes. I don't care if that sounds new-agey because it's true. Especially at Smith, you choose the extent to which you (over) extend yourself. You pick your classes, and you determine your study habits (which will in turn influence if you need to panic at finals or if you're actually well-prepared just by staying on top of your shit). You're not some powerless pawn at this school!

--When you study, really go for it. An hour of actually doing your reading/studying your flashcards is far more potent and helpful than sitting in the Rec Room (ahem) for ages talking to people/checking Facebook while you're "trying" to study. Here's some fantastic tips on maximizing your productivity so you can do work, get shit done, and then go have fun.

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--Quit yer bitching. No one likes to be around someone negative, and by dwelling on how busy you/how little sleep you've had/whatever (which are often due to your own choices, as noted above), you keep yourself locked into a cycle of feeling sorry for yourself/unhappy to be here.

--If you truly need help, ask. Sometimes things happen (death in the family, serious illness, mental health problems, what have you) that are truly beyond your control. And you're not alone when that happens. There's tutoring from peers, the QLC for math help, your professors who would've gone to teach at a huge research institution if they didn't want to interact with you, your friends, your Res Life, Counseling Services, the Wellness Office. Smith has a bajillion resources to help Smithies stay happy and healthy and emotionally balanced students: take advantage of them.

--Remember that we live in Paradise. Seriously. College is an amazing and short four years, even if Smith is not perfect, so don't spend it being miserable and complaining.

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Much love,
The Sheriff

hot for teacher?: role play

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I've got a shocking (not really) confession to make: I have never role-played sexually (or otherwise...I was at the bottom of the social totem pole in high school, but I wasn't completely a nerd!). Part of this is because I have a serious condition known as The Giggles that makes me laugh outrageously extremely frequently, which is not really a turn-on when pretending to be someone's hot nurse. Furthermore, I've never had a partner who seemed comfortable with it, and I'm pretty sure Meatball would die of embarrassment if I insisted that we try indulging in a role-play scenario, 'cause he's just cute like that.

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But it's something that intrigues me, interests me, and to be frank, turns me on. The idea of being able to be someone else for a little while, to take on a role or persona that you don't normally inhabit is downright sexy and I think it'd be incredible to try.

source (notice how both women are in the same position..)

BUT. The one thing that bothers me about role-play is that it frequently involves scenarios with a power dynamic differential. Not that there's anything inherently wrong with that, but it often puts the male figure in the place of control. Scenarios like boss/secretary, stripper/client, erotic photographer/model usually (but not always) place the dude as the one calling the shots. And I don't always like that. Role-play can be a lot more hot and allow you to stretch your comfort zone safely if you're inhabiting a new and different position that you ordinarily are: for many hetero women, that means switching from being the more passive partner to initiating sex and taking control of what happens during in an active way. And obviously within same-sex couples, it allows for some awesome possible experimentation for both partners. Role-play can actually be really subversive AND hot, which is a total two-for-one, ya'll.

Have you ever role-played? Any interest in it, or are you too prone to giggling as I am? Are the gendered dynamics a turn-off, or turn-on?

Much love,
The Sheriff

men who want to wait: double standard?

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I'm sorry my titles suck so much lately. At the beginning, a lot of them were funny and witty (I thought so anyway!), and now I just find myself going, "Well, it's about men who want to wait and double standards soo....BOOM, title." If you have a better suggestion, please leave it in the comments! I'll take anything. F'real. Onto the post!

A few days ago, some friends and I were talking about how our mutual pal is lucky to have found a guy who is patient and happy to wait for her comfort level with sexual activity to increase. He's not pushy and seems to really like and care for her, waiting several months (so far) to Do It.

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Then I reversed the scenario: could I wait several months for The Sex with a male partner? Between the three of us, we all conceded that we couldn't (or, more accurately, wouldn't) wait that long. We laughed about how much we just plain love penetration, and on a more legit note, I consider sex to be an extremely important part of my romantic relationships (shocking, ain't it?). But I began to think about this, and realized if I were a man making that kind of statement about a female partner (give it up in a month, or I'm bouncing), I'd be kinda a serious douchebag (side note: I've already realized if I were a man, I'd probably be a dick and act like the guys on Jersey Shore. Except I'm not Italian).

For females, I consider the right to say a loud enthusiastic "YES" or a strong and simple "NO" to every sexual encounter to be extremely empowering and a basic right, and I have had no trouble respecting sexual limits with women. Men are, of course, are endowed with that same right to say no. But is it a double standard that I would not be willing to wait for or be patient with a male partner in the same way that I would with a female? I think it is. I think it also indicates some cultural conditioning that sex is just "not a big deal" for men in the way that it can be for some women, and that on some level I've bought into the cultural myth that men want pussy always and forever, and that their desire to wait is somehow strange or less legitimate than a woman's. Regardless, everyone should have the right to state and stick to their limits without any sway or pressure, and I need to be a leeeeetle more conscious of the way I perceive male sexuality.

Whatcha think? Am I just a dick or is this something you've found yourself thinking too?

Much love,
The Sheriff

mo' friday links

This blog (scroll to the bottom of the page) has lots of links for self-love. Always a good way to start the weekend!

On Nudity by Mary Louise Parker. Good stuff!

I'm grateful for my eating disorder.

What are college students actually learning? This is a really interesting look into the (not so much) rigor of our colleges. All I gotta say is, they clearly weren't looking at Smithies: even my "easy" classes have had more then 40 pages of reading per week and well over 20 written pages per semester. 

Have you seen Toddlers and Tiaras? It's horrifying. Hence why I love this open letter to cancel it!

Why are Japanese teens/married couples losing interest in sex?

I love RBG. 

How feminism and Betty Friedan's work were good for the institution of marriage.

Fired for being trans in an educational setting.

How to love yourself now. 

Here's a list of amazing groups and resources dedicated to empowering girls and teens (perhaps some eventual employers of the Sheriff?). Seriously awesome stuff!

OMG SO EFFING CUTE!

If you love your partner but don't see a future, is there a point? 

Aside from the fact that they just look amazing and I want one, I think it's really cool that this Etsy seller takes exotic dancer shoes and uses them as planters as a sort of commentary on beauty.

This year's Miss America (who is a BABY at just 17 years old!) plans to focus on eating disorder prevention and eradication. I'm curious to see her action plan in a more concrete form, but yay awareness!

Beauty Schooled tackles feminism and weight loss resolutions.

The darker side of the Peace Corps (and perhaps all international work): gang rapes and calls for help by female participants go ignored. Sad, but good reading.

Much love,
The Sheriff

guest post!

Hey guys,
I did a guest post today about how I chose recovery over at Voice in Recovery. Check it out!
Much love,
The Sherif

revisiting old topics: how do we define slut?

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The very first real post on this blog was my musings on what marks the difference between an empowered woman, in charge of her sexuality (which is what we Albright Sex Fairies clearly fancy ourselves to be) and a slut. While I've gotten my judgmental attitude decidedly more in check then, I still ponder this question from time to time. I've decided to no longer use the word "slut" (or any of its derivatives) at all, period, but this word clearly holds an enormous meaning to most people and it's worth exploring.

I try to ask people, particularly men, what their definition of slut is, when I can (great dinner party conversation). I find it fascinating because most people either have a fixed number in their head at which point slutdom begins (e.g., 16 partners? Just having fun. 20? OMG WHORE), or there is just some general slut-tastic vibe they get. Meatball has used the word a few times, and whenever he does I make sure to grill him about what exactly he means when he says a girl is a slut: he doesn't know, is what it comes down to. She just is, she's easy, she sleeps around (what does THAT mean?). So while slut might be a meaningless word in that it has no real definition, it can still wreak havoc on someone's self esteem to be slapped with that label, especially as it's not very difficult for verbal harassment to move into the realm of physical and sexual harassment.  It's well-documented how deeply harmful this can be. And of course, it's so accepted that it almost goes without saying that one never hears the word "slut" or "whore" applied to men in a negative light. 

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In the college context, I find this particularly dangerous because on many campuses, the accepted form of interaction with the opposite sex is hooking up (another word that is nigh impossible to define). While I don't necessarily think this is a bad thing across the board, it's easy to get blasted with a terrible reputation for simply indulging in one's sexual urges a little too publicly or too frequently for your campus's moral climate.

So what're we to do? I think examining one's own definitions and biases around sexually active women is a great place to start. Try dismantling other people's use of the word, or at least bringing their attention to what they're really saying and how ludicrous it is. And keep an eye out for the exploitation of it in pop culture (when I searched weheartit for images for this post using the word "slut" as my search term, the first six pictures that came up? All Miley Cyrus!), as seen in the lovely image below.

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What do you think? How do you define "slut"? Should it be a loaded word, or should we trend toward getting away from defining female morality based on their sexual activity level (ya'll know how I feel)?

Much love,
The Sheriff

workin' it out: why exercise might go hand in hand with recovery

As many of you know, yours truly went into treatment for her eating disorder, which reared its ugly head full force after a pretty decent period of quiet, about a year ago (actually, today marks the anniversary of my initial assessment. Woohoo!). I had spent much of my junior year fall semester in the gym, getting there at the crack of dawn and pushing myself too hard. Exercise wasn't my main drug of choice, so to speak, but it played into the rest of my eating disordered behaviors and was definitely not an activity I undertook with the intention to work my heart, reduce my risk of diabetes, or reduce stress: I did it to lose weight, to try to control my size, and to punish myself. To say the least, it wasn't pretty.

I also saw a painfully eating disordered woman there every morning. Aside form her emaciated body, which was admittedly a pretty clear hint that she was ill, there's just something in the eyes and face of people who have eating disorders that's instantly recognizable to me. I find myself spotting them in public places, and wondering if I show any of that anymore, or if the health and joy and recovery has crowded out the ED glaze. I avoided the gym for a long time, knowing I would see her or someone else on the treadmill for hours and that it just wasn't in line with my priorities to toss that kind of imagery in my face on the daily.

But I've recently started working out again, and it feels fantastic. Granted, it's mostly me hoisting weights around or doing cheesy workout DVDs in my room (I just can't make myself hit the actual gym), but it's done wonders for my self-esteem. I don't see any significant shifts in my size, but I feel great about my body anyway because it can do stuff. After a particularly intense yoga DVD, I reveled in the soreness of my upper arms, not out of punishment but pride that I could hold my own during that many sun salutations. My body image has similarly been pretty awesome lately. Might there be a connection?

yay!

Research says yes! Even eating disordered individuals can benefit from exercise during their recovery. And it might even be helpful in preventing the eating disorder behaviors from arising in the first place in particularly at risk individuals. Which is pretty fuckin' cool, if you think about it: build a positive, healthy habit in young girls (and boys!) that helps them deal with stress and enhances their body image and physical health and you just might help them avoid developing a crippling mental illness. Research shows being active improves body image regardless of physical changes, meaning it wouldn't necessarily have to be associated with bigger muscles or a smaller waist to prompt a healthier self image.

Of course, I think this needs some more work before it's an accepted practice. By no means should a bulimic with low eloctrolytes or an emaciated individual be put on any serious sort of fat-burning regimen, but gentle yoga and walking would absolutely be beneficial additions to many residental treatment programs (and even outpatient ones!). And for someone still on the recovery path, I find it heartening that science is backing up what I'm discovering on my own.

What's your relationship to exercise? Healthy, troubled, non-existent?

Much love,
The Sheriff

i'm curious...

What do YOU want to see more of here on FF?
More guest posts (leave a comment with your email if you'd like to do one!)? More body image/sex/feminism/queer stuff/something else? Less profanity (unlikely, but I could think about it)?

Give us some feedback!

Much love,
The Sheriff

it's friday...

...and you know what that means! I've got a ton of weekend reading for ya'll.

vintage photo of Smithies in the snow! (No idea where I found this, will try to track down source)

If you're from around the Pioneer Valley, the Advocate is now doing its voting for Best of the Valley. You have to vote for ten categories (out of 184) for your ballet to count. Vote for Oh My! for best adult shop (cuz they are) and vote for FF for best blog, if you're so inclined. :)

You've perhaps heard about Isabel Caro's death (former model, died due to complications of anorexia). She posed in an ad campaign entitled "No Anorexia" intended to bring awareness to the disease, both in and out of the modeling realm. Here's some of the debate about those ads (WARNING: Potential to be VERY triggering, and NSFW).  

Long distance can work, according to the NYT. 

People should talk to each other more. And really talk.

Guess what your brain loves just as much as sex? Music!

Speaking of music, I love me some Kanye, but his Monster music video is horrifying in its glamorization of dead women. Read more here, maybe sign the petition?

BeautySchooled's talking about scales this week. Do you hop on daily, weekly, never? Is it angsty or matter of fact?

If you are goal oriented like my super-Aries self, you've probably heard of 43 Things already. It's pretty fantastic, and I was looking at some of the goals on the bottom. A few (underlined in black) made me sad. But one (underlined in yellow) made me very happy (also please ignore how the image spills over the edge...I tried to fix it, I swear!).

What Google knows about men and women, gleaned from 200 years worth of books. Interesting...

Personally, I like the tote...

Are women leaving men behind? I like her point that men just need to be wise to the fact that gender roles are fluid these days, and ya'll better realize that so you can catch up. But the comments are DISGUSTING. I hate the effect of anonymity on the interwebz.

I've probably posted this before, but you know what? I don't care because it is always SO GOOD: 100 Ways You Can Start Loving Yourself Right Now.

Body Image in the Bedroom. Wish I'd written this!

"When we look at what the factors are that make life so miserable for young gays and lesbians, it’s tempting for progressives to point the finger at religious traditions that are hostile to sexual pluralism. But the young men in American high schools who are beating up other boys whom they suspect of being gay are rarely doing so in order to comply with a misunderstood dictate from the Torah or the Pauline epistles. It’s not faith that drives the hate as much as it is an overwhelming desire to establish masculine bona fides. “I torment faggots, therefore I can’t be one; I beat up queers, therefore I’m a man.” That toxic equation may be aided and abetted by conservative religion, but it isn’t rooted in it. Rather, the hateful behavior is rooted in the rigid rules of American masculinity, a masculinity predicated on a contempt for and a paranoia about even the slightest whiff of femininity among the be-penised." (read the full thing here)

Sex is not the enemy! Authentic people and their bodies and their sex and their love. I adore how happy everyone looks (so so so not safe for work)!

Much love,
The Sheriff

sex/porn/power

 I don't know how exactly, but last Friday I stumbled upon this article. And I was so angry at the whole thing that it took me the weekend and then some to process it enough to write something intelligible. Her basic premise is that the rise in hardcore pornography (some of which is truly wretched and demeaning to women) reveals so-called "eternal truths" about men and women in regards to their views of sex and how they treat the opposite gender. In particular, the following passage pissed me off:

Men, so the conventional wisdom goes, tend to desire more than women are willing to give them sexually. The granting of sex is the most powerful weapon women possess in their struggle with men. Yet in each new sexual negotiation a woman has with a man, she not only spends down that capital, she begins at a disadvantage, because the potential losses are always greater for her.

...WTF.

While I agree that biology makes for greater "potential losses" for women (you can't run away from an unwanted pregnancy if you're the one with the uterus), almost everything else she says in this particular passage is crap. The most powerful tool we have is the granting of sex? Not our minds, not our wit, not even our bodies in a general sense...nope, just the fact that we are the gatekeepers. Add to that the fact that with each new sexual encounter, you "spend down that capital." The capital of what, exactly? My bargaining power of withholding vagina? What if I don't want to? Doesn't that put me in an even more disadvantaged position, if I'm not even getting what I want (it might not be double anal, as she repeatedly discusses, but can't I want sex too)?

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What I hate about this piece is that she makes broad, sweeping generalizations about men and women based on the rise of porn (and while I do agree that the mainstreamed aspects of porn have changed some of our ideas about sex/sexuality, this lady just goes too far). She says, "A warring dynamic based on power and subjugation has always existed between men and women, and the egalitarian view of sex, with its utopian pretensions, offers little insight into the typical male psyche." War? Really? Sex (and I mean sex, consensual healthy sex, not rape or assault or anything undesired by one party) is not war.

She admits that porn gives only a partial view into the male psyche, but does it really even do that? Or does it just give a view into the fringe that has always been there, and now at least has a more healthy outlet for their (sometimes unsavory/exploitative) desires? She goes on to say that "removing pornography won’t alter the unlovely aspects of male sexuality that porn depicts and legitimizes. The history of civilization would seem to show that there’s no hope of eradicating those qualities; they can only be contained—and checked—by strenuously enforced norms." Can we please give men a little credit here? The vast majority of them are not brutes, trained merely to defile and debase the women they come across. Similarly, the vast majority of women are not helpless dames who have no interest in sex. Maybe if our culture approached sex with a healthier attitude and helped teens make informed decisions about it and to learn how to clearly identify and verbalize their boundaries to their partner(s), we wouldn't imagine it to be this game, this volleying back and forth and negotiating process that leaves one party invariably at a loss in the cultural narrative.

I don't know, I'm mostly just frustrated with what she says. What do you guys think? Does porn and its "legitimization" by the mainstream put women in a real disadvantage in normal, consensual sexual experiences? Are men just total vikings, ready to pillage at a moment's notice?

Much love,
The Sheriff

the strange power of the victoria's secret swimsuit catalog

Bra shopping is second only to jeans shopping in its ability to make you feel terrible about your body and convinced that you must be deformed to fit so badly into mass-manufactured clothes...which is why I order almost all of my bras online, from Victoria's Secret. Yes, I know they use sweatshops and abuse photoshop (BADLY OMG) and their PINK line is sometimes just damn ugly (though comfy), but I can rely on most of their bras to fit me pretty well and I can try them on in the comfort of my own room, instead of in a dressing room, being hounded by the overly helpful attendant. All this to say: I get an absurd amount of VS catalogs in my wee college mailbox.

how are you reallll?

And on Monday, their first swimsuit catalogue for the summer of 2011 arrived. Cue the temporarily plummeting of my self-esteem.

Even with the knowledge that these photos are ridiculously photoshopped (see above link, people), even knowing full well that these women are paid to look good and that's all (whereas I am paid to do things!), even given my personal battles with body image and knowing that by now I've fully earned the right to not give a damn what I look like in a bikini...the VS swimsuit catalog holds this strange power over me. 

I find myself scrutinizing the pictures, practically drooling over their abs, then turning to the mirror and wondering what the hell I'm doing wrong that I don't have that kind of definition, why I don't hit the gym harder, why I'm so fucking short, why I'm not that tan, why my stretch marks show, why why why.


To answer that, I turn to a silly forward email from one of my aunts (one of those forwards that references events that probably never happened, but I like the sentiment): 
Recently, in a large French city, a poster featuring a young, thin and tan woman appeared in the window of a gym. It said:

THIS SUMMER DO YOU WANT TO BE A MERMAID OR A WHALE?
A middle-aged woman, whose physical characteristics did not match those of the woman on the poster, responded publicly to the question posed by the gym.

To Whom It May Concern:
Whales are always surrounded by friends (dolphins, sea lions, curious humans).  They have an active sex life; they get pregnant and have adorable baby whales.  They have a wonderful time with dolphins stuffing themselves with shrimp.  They play and swim in the seas, seeing wonderful places like Patagonia, the Bering Sea and the coral reefs of Polynesia. Whales are wonderful singers and have even recorded CDs.  They are incredible creatures and virtually have no predators other than humans. They are loved, protected and admired by almost everyone in the world.

Mermaids don't exist.  If they did exist, they would be lining up outside the offices of Argentinean psychoanalysts due to identity crisis.  Fish or human?  They don't have a sex life because they kill men who get close to them not to mention how could they have sex?  Therefore, they do not have kids either. Not to mention, who wants to get close to a girl who smells like a fish store?

The choice is perfectly clear to me; I want to be a whale.

By no means do I consider myself (at least when I am being rational, and after I have put down the VS catalog) a whale or even overweight. I am pretty goddamn normal, and honestly, that's fantastic. I've got great boobs, a nice butt, thick thighs, fantastic hair, and (most importantly) a brain that is something not to be fucked with underneath that hair. A brain that allows me to reflect on all the things my body and heart and soul can do that have jack shit to do with how I look in a bikini. A brain that allows me to note that looking good in a bikini does not mean looking like Alessanda Ambrosio, it means looking healthy and happy and happy with yourself. A brain that recognizes that I never could look like Alessandra anyway, unless I grew half a foot and became Brazilian. A brain that reminds me I can construct my own beauty ideals. Sometimes. When I remove the bad influences and step away from the images of photoshopped models. Which we should probably all do.

Do you have anything that, despite its ridiculous nature, wrecks your confidence? How do you combat it?

Much love,
The Sheriff

PS-FF is cross-posted today on Beauty Schooled, which is a fantastic blog about the beauty industry and the price we pay for the products we use (both literally and in terms of the chemicals in them, the effects of ads, etc.). You should check it out!

targeted advertising=new exciting forms of sexist profiling!

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I am a pretty typical college student (aside from the college I attend, of course...and my sex blogging), which means I invariably waste an enormous amount of time on The Facebook. I can't really pinpoint what about this social networking site is so addicting and requires checking multiple times a day (ESPECIALLY when I've got shit to do) but I know I'm not alone with my problem.

One of my favorite things to do on facebook is to X it's little ads on the sidebar if I find them irritating. Facebook (and a lot of similar sites) use the information from your profile (your age, groups you're in, your gender, relationship status, etc.) to target you with ads that you might find appealing. Because obviously you're exactly like everyone else in your demographic group!

Until I realized I could change the ads, I had to deal with a barrage of ads about how to get a flat stomach, with pictures of tan taut abs of what must've been 17-year-olds with a genetic mutation that causes them to not have the ability to retain body fat. The best moment of Facebook irony was perhaps when one of these thin-obsessed ads appeared just below an ad for an eating disorder treatment clinic. Ahh, precious moments. I began telling The Facebook that I found these ads offensive, and eventually they stopped popping up.

But there are other moments of advertising loveliness that are clearly catered to what ad execs assume a 20-something female would want: everytime I visit my boyfriend Meatball's profile, there's an ad on the side for engagement rings or wedding venues or something similarly related to wedding planning. It's insulting that the ads are rarely for things like feminist orgs or nonprofits or anything even remotely empowering or useful. Nope, just stuff to make me feel bad about my body and to remind me that I should be working on gettin' that bling, even at the tender age of 21.

Has FB ever given you a ridiculous, sexist ad? Do you just ignore them, or do you tell them you'd rather not waste your time looking at that shit?

Much love,
The Sheriff

fri. day. links!

LOTS of reading material for ya'll this week...and since I know you Smithies aren't doing jackshit right now, read up.

Smith's Wellness Director's blog is usually pretty informative, but I love this post.  YOU ARE NORMAL.

Once you've been in a relationship for a while, and the sparkle rubs off and sometimes they annoy you...well, read this article for a reminder that they're not the partner in your head.

Stop Hating Your Body. Might submit something to this, and you should consider it too! 

The Business of Being Born is a fantastic documentary that explores what childbirth is like in the US today (and it's free to watch it here!).

I agree completely with this woman's thoughts about keeping one's last name upon marriage (god that sounded formal. You know that I mean).

Did everyone else know that there's a Snuggie Sutra?  Seriously. Also it's very heteronormative, with its pink and blue figures.

Have women been conditioned to not take risks, especially at work (answer: yes)? Then re-conditioning is yo' answer (as well as trying to overthrow sexism and the patriarchy, of course).

This has nothing to do with sex or feminsm, but DamnYouAutoCorrect.com is my new favorite time waster. This particular spell check error made me lol for a while.

Fresh starts for the new year? Yes please :)

Much love,
The Sheriff

i'm a bad motherfucker: in which the sheriff gets a brazilian

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I consider myself a pretty ballsy person: I've broken noses, been in my fair share of mosh pits, and I've got four tattoos and a VCH piercing as further evidence. But a Brazilian wax? Wax on my asshole? Could I handle it? I was perpetually curious. Having had my eyebrows waxed before and thinking it wasn't so painful, I balked at the Brazilian only because of the pricetag. And then for Christmas, Meatball offered to pay for one for me, if I still wanted it (for the record, he has never expressed any opinions about my pubic hair, and this is definitely not a subtly coercive present on his behalf). Economic barriers removed (68 bucks?!), I made an appointment and read about the procedure online, reminding myself that I am tough and I've got a genital piercing: how bad could this really be?

Well. The experience was certainly interesting.

The woman doing the waxing was very young (conversation later revealed she was turning 21 in June), and tattooed and pierced, which comforted me that she wouldn't be confused by how to wax around my VCH barbell (although it did wind up covered in wax anyway). I told her it was my first time, and she explained that I needed to strip from the waist and cover my lady bits with a hand towel, and that there was a piece of dark chocolate for me to eat if I liked. This particular detail was a cute but hilarious touch: chocolate and a Brazilian wax at a spa? Could there be any more of a stereotypically "feminine" combination? The aesthetician gave me an unusually long time to undress, which also struck me as funny: if you're going to have your hands and face all up in my genitals for half an hour, does it really matter if you walk in before I'm undressed fully? Though I suppose it's more for client comfort than anything else, as most people are probably not as lax about nudity as I am.

Anyway.

She jumped right to it, explaining how to best position my legs so she could get to my hairs with the wax, chatting away and asking me friendly questions to distract me as she smeared pink wax that looked like melted silly putty along my inner thighs. The first rip was absolutely the most painful, causing a little twitch and gasp on my behalf but she kept comforting me, saying I was doing great, that the reddening of skin and the little spots of blood are totally normal. Things got less awkward and painful as she continued, but each time she asked a question ("Where do you work?" "Do you like Smith?" "Where does your boyfriend plan to live after you graduate?") before ripping away another strip of wax, I had to pause so as to not shriek mid-sentence.

The most humorous moments were the ones where decorum and manners forced her to use euphemisms. To refer to my asshole, she said "under." I'm getting a Brazilian, lady: I know what I'm here for. For that part of the waxing (which was actually the least painful part, but perhaps the strangest sensation of my life), she had me lie on my side with one knee angled, and then asked me to "hold here," referring to my buttcheek. I had to try hard not to laugh at her delicacy in instructing me to spread my cheeks wide so she could get up in there. 

what the fuck..

I found it a little sad that she kept directing the conversation back to me: I'm sure this is a tactic used to make the client feel comfortable (who doesn't like talking about themselves?) and to engender a better "connection" for a better tip, but I felt like a jerk being the woman paying for something, knowing nothing about the provider of the service. By the end of the experience, she knew about my piercings and tats and their stories behind them, where I'm from, what my parents do, where my boyfriend goes to school, what he studies, that he wrestles and is in a frat, my major, my post-Smith plans, where I live, that I'm a head resident, the kind of car I drive....and I knew her name and that she grew up around here. And that's all.

It's also interesting that this somewhat mainstream procedure owes its popularity to porn. In porn, it serves a very practical function: hairless vaginas show more action. In real life, does a Brazilian wax serve any real purpose aside from aesthetics? I find it's more sensitive and somewhat easier to orgasm to without a full bush, but I also usually shave, rather than paying a stranger a lot of money to pour warm wax on my crotch. But it just doesn't have the same practical application to a non-porn star woman. In either scenario, it's largely something undertaken with an eye to the male gaze: porn is catered to men, who want hairless vaginas so they can more clearly see what's happening, and men who are over exposed to porn want their female partners to have hairless vaginas...for the same reason? I'm not really sure about the male POV.

Overall, I found the experience to be an odd one. Body hair is a deeply personal issue, and to bring in a second person to assist in its removal is inherently a strange process. But also to subject yourself to that kind of pain, every six weeks, VOLUNTARILY (and not just in the name of blogging/curiosity, as I did)? I couldn't imagine doing it. I love my vagina far too much to be a regular. Plus, let's face it, at around 80 bucks and up including tip, my measly stipend would never allow me to be the kind of lady who does this regularly anyway. It's very much a bourgie experience. And I don't know about it being "empowering," as I've heard it referred to. Empowerment, according to Wikipedia, "refers to increasing the spiritual, political, social, or economic strength of individuals and communities. It often involves the empowered developing confidence in their own capacities." Doesn't sound like a hairless crotch will do that for you, but maybe I'm wrong.

I still feel pretty badass now though for surviving (though I was sweating by the end). 

How do you feel about pubic hair removal? Ever tried a Brazilian?

Much love,
The Sheriff

long distance love

Long distance relationships are a particularly collegiate phenomenon. I know other people sometimes have to endur it but that's usually for a specific career (i.e, some form of military) or a very specific set of time (a fellowship). Legions of young folks go off to their first year of college, pledging to make it last forever with their high school sweethearts...only to break up come Thanksgiving.

this is pretty fuckin creepy

Having tried this myself and having had it go horribly (partially because he begged me to go to the less prestigious, less ME college that was 20 minutes from home instead of the AMAZING, MIND BLOWING Smith College that was 5 hours away), I've learned some lessons about long-distance. And although I'm bi and would have plenty of options at Smith for relationships, somehow I've always fallen for menfolk (slash it's just easier than explaining to people why I express myself so femme-y), which necessitates a distance of sorts (even if it's just a ride on the PVTA with the local crazies and drunk UMass kids).

For the first-year Thanksgiving Dump activity, it's less that long-distance is inherently flawed than it is that attempting to maintain a strong tie to someone who knew you pre-college (pre-the person you became when you stepped on campus, pre-your first frat party, pre-your mind-blowing classes, pre-your all-night discussions about love and god and sex and race and war with your housemates) and to remain unchanged to preserve image they have of you is flawed. People change and waver and grow organically and sometimes do regrettable ridiculous shit (especially in college), and it's difficult to fully experience that process when you're tied to someone "from home" in such an intimate way.

Furthermore, I think going off to college more viscerally forces you to choose who you want to be: as the first person in my family to go to college, I had to actually choose to step into and begin to transition into the middle class (let no one fool you: this is not an easy process. No matter how smart and sophisticated I felt in my hometown, Smithies leave me in the dust on the daily with their cultural capital, and there is no faking or cultivating that knowledge they naturally have), which also meant recognizing my hometown sweetie who worked at Burger King and had no plans was no longer It for me.

But can it work post-college? I'd like to think so. I'll (hopefully) wind up discovering that for myself. It's hard because there's times when the physicality of relationships (the snuggling on the couch, the lying your head on their chest, the feeling of their hot breath on your neck during sex, just smiling at them during a meal) is all you ache for. And the insecurity of having no idea what they're doing much of the time? It can be agonizing sometimes. But with a little work, regular Skype dates, masturbation, and phone sex, I think it can be accomplished....as long as you allow each other to change and grow naturally. Balancing act, for sure.

Your thoughts?
Much love,
The Sheriff

dear medical establishment

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Not gonna lie: thanks to bad genetics and an eating disorder that involved copious amounts of vomiting (and hence stomach acid bathing my teeth on the daily for a long time), my teeth are in pretty bad shape. I've got a lovely smile, but it hides many many cavities. I've spent hours of my life in dentist's chairs, getting fillings, and thanking god we had dental insurance to cover at least part of the procedure. And I've always been up front with dentists about my health history so that they know what they're dealing with. But today's experience left a nasty taste in my mouth with the medical community.

I went into my dentist this morning for a cleaning, fully prepared for The Look of Judgment when I tell the hygienist I've only been flossing twice a week, as if we're discussing my moral status as a human being instead of my plaque content. And I got all that, plus a painfully deep cleaning, and more. My dentist came in at the end to give my mouth the once over, and per usual, wrote up a few spots that need drilling. As she examined my teeth and made me bite down, she asked, "You had an eating disorder?" I nodded. "Throwing up?" Surprised by her bluntness, I nodded again. She sighed, looked me in the eyes, and said, "You really shouldn't have done that. It's very bad for you."

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Really? You think I didn't know that? You don't think that may have occurred to me before, prompting me to put myself through recovery and treatment centers twice? You think I'm that stupid? I really can't stand the holier-than-thou, thou-art-so-stupid act that doctors dose out to their patients, especially young, female, or fat ones. I've had doctors trivilize my eating disorder (including a psychologist who told me I should just eat bananas to replenish lost potassium from purging and then I'd be fine). I've heard horror stories of Smithies going to Health Services and facing The Judgment for their sexual activities. And I know larger people face it nearly everywhere they go, from doctors offices to restaurants where the waitress raises her eyebrows at their choice to order desert. It's bullshit. Being young and female (and even having had an eating disorder) does not make me stupid in regards to my health, believe it or not.

Much love,
The Sheriff