the sheriff is a naughty recovered anorexic...

..because she forgot that it's National Eating Disorder Awareness Week! Whoops.

The theme (for both last year and this year) is "It's Time to Talk About It." I've brought that theme up in recent entries, so I hope that in your own lives, you open up some form of discussion about eating disorders/disordered eating in your own history, your family, friends, society, whatever strikes you. NEDAW is asking you to think of the one thing that you can do to help prevent, help, or heal someone with an eating disorder, which I think is fantastic. You can't cure someone, no matter how hard you try. You can't even cure yourself instantly. But you can absolutely do just one thing to help.

If you feel that you might need treatment or want to seek out information for yourself, that's amazing that you can recognize that you're struggling and the internet is full of amazing resources! I've listed some below, but there are PLENTY more out there. You should feel proud of yourself for taking the first step towards a healthy and full life!

NEDAW website.

ED Bites.

Something Fishy.


Renfrew Center.

Weightless.

Much love (and support!),
The Sheriff

friday fun and frivolity

good reminder!

Interesting and important: campuses define consent differently (why?).


All my dreams come true.

QuestionableContent is a webcomic drawn by a local dude and it's set in Northampton so it obviously references Smith a lot. But this one also mocks UMass bros just a bit and made my day.

Gay man hanky code: fascinating.


The greatest love of all: love for self! I love everything Sally writes about body image/self love.


Reporter sexually  assaulted in Egypt in the midst of all the celebrations in the streets. I tried to find if this has also been happening to Egyptian women, but couldn't find much. If you've got info, please share it below!


Crappy things people do before breaking up with you. Truth.

Much love,
The Sheriff

size(ism?) and when to speak the fuck up

I read this piece at Eat the Damn Cake (which, if you're too lazy to click on over, is about seeing that clearly eating disordered/otherwise struggling emaciated woman constantly doin' her cardio and not knowing how to approach her), and it immediately rang true for me. I've written about this very phenomenon before and how even as a recovered anorexic, I still struggle with finding the right words to express concern and support without being accusatory (especially to strangers!).

But someone in the comments raised a good point: would you consider saying anything to an overweight person eating, say, a Twinkie?

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Which is a lot harder to answer, and more important to answer, than I first thought. I imagine most people would react to that the way I did: "What?! No! Let them eat what they want!" But what if it's part of an eating disorder? Or just incredibly damn unhealthy? And not unhealthy in the way that Fitness and Shape and all those magazines that I hate to love to read portray it (i.e., health=being slender. Always!), but truly unhealthy, as in, leading to health issues. Lemme give you a personal example.

One of my older sisters was rushed to the hospital this weekend for two emergency surgeries (appendectomy and umbilical hernia repair! At the same time! Whew!), both of which are pretty standard procedures. But they were both complicated by her weight. She is obese, perhaps even morbidly so, and has a deeply unhealthy lifestyle: she works far too many hours as a chef, she eats only meat and carbs (I can promise you that during my 21 years of life, I have not once seen her eat anything green, whilst I spent my childhood gnawing on whole cucumbers. But I digress), she does not exercise, and she lives in New Jersey (this is not actually a health risk, except that no one there can drive). While I agree that one can absolutely be both "fat" (whatever we've decided that means) and fit, she simply does not fall into that category.

But how can someone possibly address this sort of issue with a loved one without simply being insulting? Is it not my place? I've always berated my dad and brother for smoking; is this situation any different? Or does the fact that a female's body and size are so personal and so assaulted daily with messages about how we should look and act make this somehow more sensitive (for duh, Sheriff)? So how to be both sensitive to that and supportive of adopting a healthier lifestyle? Can you even influence someone to do that? Should you ever address things of this nature with anyone, even an emaciated lady at the gym?

Should I even say anything? Have you ever struggled with addressing this with a loved one?

Much love,
The Sheriff

v-day sexual expectations

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Holidays are always full of ludicrous expectations: this Christmas, no one will get drunk and insult each other while we pretend to enjoy the tasteless mashed potatoes made by Auntie. And this New Year's, the party will be amazing and I'll kiss someone at midnight and no one will insist on driving home drunk.

And this Valentine's Day will be magical and full of roses and candy and love and amazing mind blowing sex.

Because expectations and pressure like that has never disappointed anyone.

I don't really buy hugely into the hype of hatin' on Valentine's Day (yes, it's over-commercialized, and yes, you should show your love every day of the year), and I do think it's cute and enjoyable if you relax and don't make it into too much. If you aren't expecting it to blow your mind, whatever does happen will be much more pleasant.

This absolutely includes V-Day sexy time.

Expecting sex to be more special or mind-blowing just because it's a holiday is a) illogical, and b) only likely to give you performance anxiety and make it less enjoyable than it could've been. While the Sheriff herself did not get to see Meatball on the day itself, she may have made an appearance over the weekend for him in some cheesy panties that may have looked identical to this:

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And it was silly and fun and hopefully he liked it, but either way, I got to fuck my partner for the first time in weeks so the accoutrement of the evening couldn't have mattered less. Candles or rose petals wouldn't have made either of us cum any quicker or love the other more. Sex is not about putting on a performance. It's more about the connection you have with your partner and your ability to stay in the moment that determines how you'll feel  and how much pleasure you get out of it (this counts for solo sex too: masturbation can be just as frustrating, even though you clearly know how you like to be touched, if you're disconnected from yourself and your mind is wandering). Enjoy the sex you're having, and try to check your expectations at the door.

But what do you think? Are high expectations good for raising the bar and encouraging fun new sex, or do they just ruin the perfectly good stuff that happens most of the time?


Much love,
The Sheriff

love YO'SELF this valentine's day

 This is an excerpt from a wicked old post I wrote back last May about self-love. And I think it's incredibly appropriate topic for Valentine's day. In the midst of all the candy and cards and flowers and bondage, remember to focus on how amazing you are. Seriously. 


Self love.

That means being gentle with yourself above all else. Did you screw up an exam or say something awkward while trying to flirt? It's okay, everyone does! It doesn't make you less attractive, smart, funny, good of a person for one mistake. Accept that you did your best, AND you can do better.

Tell yourself you're awesome, hot, beautiful, curvy, skinny, gorgeous, smart, whatever you need to hear. External validation feels incredible, but you are the only consistent source of happiness in your own life. So be there for yourself, and cheesy as it is, look yourself in the mirror and tell yourself you're beautiful everyday. IT WORKS.

Do something active most days of the week, not because it will make you lose weight or tone you up or flatten your abs or any of that bullshit. But because it will help you live longer and feel happier and, in moderation, is very positive for self esteem. And yes, dance parties count.

You might have to fake it till you make it (NOT your orgasms please!). As an experiment, I've tried walking around this semester with "swagger," if you will. Head up, good posture, a little natural swing in the hips, and a big smile when I make eye contact with people, even when I felt obese and wanted to hide. And ya know what? Compliments began POURING my way. I got asked out at least twice a week by stangers. Most importantly, I feel hotter now. And nothing, literally nothing, had otherwise changed in my appearance (I actually STOPPED going to the gym during this period). And now, I've got more confidence in my bedroom abilities than before and can focus on enjoying myself. So tell the negative voice inside your head to go fuck itself (probs pretty often) and turn your swag on, even if it's just pretend.

Do you find yourself thinking about how fat you must look in certain sexual positions or worrying that your partner notices your bacne/cellulite/stretch marks/birth mark (mine, btw, is white markings framing my vag. No lie. Sign from God that I was to have amazing sex?)? Here's the secret: they'll be so thrilled they're having sex with you, they won't notice. And if they do notice, it won't matter, because they'll be focusing on your hot tits or soft skin or beautiful eyes. To get out of your head and into the sensual gorgeous feelings, try doing some mindfulness in your daily life or in bed. Shift your focus to the feel of their hands on your body or the sound of their breath (this has the added bonus of making you more in tune with what's happening and thus more aware of your likes/dislikes AND more turned on. Mindfulness rocks!). Focusing on the moment gets you out of your own anxieties and more connected to the experience you're having.

Check out the body image myths you tell yourself. Are you a perfectionist? Do you think your looks outweigh all the other facets of your personality? For me, I constantly compared myself to other women to see how I sized up. It honestly got pretty vicious; I'd visit my ex, Beefcake, at his school, which is mostly full of bratty Philadelphia Main Line/New Jersey daddy's girls who get spray tans and wear Uggs with sweatpants. But rather than being nice or trying to get to know them, out of my own anxiety, I'd say the nastiest things about them to Beefcake as soon as we walked into any party, the cafeteria, whatever. Is it really because I hate Uggs and orange skin that much? Both are pretty atrocious, but no. It's because I was insecure. And until I tackled that insecurity, I let these women reduce me down to nothing but a catty judgmental bitch. But now? They wouldn't bother me one bit. I'm hot in my own way, and they can be their own Jersey version of hot, and it doesn't matter because it's not a competition. As Baz Luhrmann said, "Don’t waste your time on jealousy; sometimes you’re ahead, sometimes you’re behind,
the race is long, and in the end, it’s only with yourself."

For more info on loving yourself, check out these awesome links!
How to practice supreme mega self-love daily.
Empty bellies do not beget genius.
Tenets of self-care. 

Much love,
The Sheriff

Friday Links!

Short list this week! 

This is equal parts perfect and adorable: a letter to my teenage self.

teehee.

Facebook use increases risk of eating disorders? 

Interesting. More talk of Facebook, but in relation to the male gaze/posting sexy pictures/porn etc.

Hilarious vintage advice: Are you ready for marriage, ladies? Oddly, some of it is sound (what do you argue over? Have you really discussed your finances?), but some of it is just sexist and hilariously dated (Can you prepare all of his favorite dishes?).

ED Bites: An all-around fantastic pro-recovery blog.

Don't try to be perfect; just be an excellent example of being human.- Tony Robbins


Much love,
The Sheriff

how do you measure a year?

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First of all: Thank you, blog readers, for being silently supportive without knowing it. I've used this blog sometimes as a platform to talk about my ED and recovery efforts and body image struggles, and maybe sometimes it's boring to you, but it's been enormously helpful to publicly out myself and put it all out there.

I couldn't resist the Rent inspired title for today's post, because today is a momentous day. It marks a full year for me without any eating disorder behaviors at all, something I haven't done since I was 12 when my disorder really took off. And I'm pretty fuckin' proud.

I went into treatment at age 14 for the first time, and it was mostly just going through the motions. I was sorta sick of my ED, but really? I secretly loved it, the comfort it gave me, the way it calmed me down to obsess over calories and to run my hands over my jutting hip bones while I laid in bed at night. That's why it never really went away: I never really wanted it to.

It came back with a raging vengeance at age 20, and I was tired of it. Tired of being exhausted, of being isolated, of having no room in my life for fun or joy or confidence or friends. Just room for gripping, terrifying intense obsession. I chose to put myself into treatment, like an accountable adult, and that made all the difference. I made and kept every appointment, and although there were days when I hated it, when I wanted to punch my nutritionist for making me choke down so many snacks, I came to relish the feeling of being good to myself. Of being honest for once. Of forgiving myself. Of finally mourning my eating disorder, and letting it go as an active part of my identity. I used to be anorexic and bulimic, just like I used to have spiked hair and wear UFO pants and participate in mosh pits. But, finally, not anymore.

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There are times when I miss the feeling that my eating disorder filled a void or the false comfort that it gave, and there are still times that I stand in dressing rooms and cry when the size 2 pants won't fit because I have hips now and when I envy friends for their seemingly flawless bodies, and then I hate myself for being caught up in the superficial so intensely still. Not every day is perfect. But most of them rock: I see the amazing things my body can do when I nourish it and love it properly (yoga! bellydance! riding on top for long periods during awesome sex!), and the vibrant flush in my cheeks, and the healthy happy loving relationship I have with my boyfriend, and the support of my glorious friends, and all the space in my life for joy when there's not a draining mental illness crowding out the good stuff. Recovery might be a lifelong battle, but it doesn't feel like a fight anymore: it just feels like life. And that's the best gift I could ever give myself.

Much love,
The Sheriff