friday links

The 5 least romantic ways to maintain a relationship--my parents sleep separately and it's worked for 25 years!

This book sounds really fantastic, about how people are re-defining the institution of marriage to make it work for them. 

A poll now affirms what I already suspected: most people in my generation (so-called "milennials"--who thinks up this crap?) support a woman's right to choose and gay marriage. Yeah! They chalk it up to our different views on gender roles and sexual morality.

On a related note: watching Teen Mom or Sixteen and Pregnant may make you more sympathetic to abortion.

Why your stomach doesn't like health food.

One of the dead women from Kanye's horrific "Monster" music video talks about her experiences filming it.

I am apparently 3/4 man. No lie. Thanks Esquire!

Much love,
The Sheriff

clothes, class, and cleaning ladies: examining perceptions

other cleaning ladies might look like this...

The last few weeks since graduation, I've been working with my mama before my real work begins. Cleaning houses on the Main Line of Philadelphia, specifically. It's quite the experience in any manner of things (learning just how much dirt you can tolerate in someone else's home before you judge them, realizing their three-year-old uses more expensive shampoo than you do, coming up with a polite way to tell them you won't make the bed anymore if they continue to leave soiled panties in it), but lately, it's been wildly educational in terms of how others treat you within that community based on your appearance.

but I usually look like this (minus the shades. And money, of course)

 Clothing can signify a variety of things: mood, style, ethnicity, comfort with revealing skin, and most pertinent to this post, job/income. While my Mama wears polo shirts and old jeans, I wear ratty workout clothes (certainly not the pricey Lululemon yoga pants favored in those parts, more like worn-out, accidentally  bleached tee shirts and ill-fitting shorts) and we both generally smell of Lysol after a long day's work. It is clear that we are outsiders in this land of Lily Pulitzer and BMWs, and I'm generally fine with that. I labor, I make my money, I leave.

But, per usual, the Sheriff can't go anywhere without getting pissed about some sort of -ism.

While shopping in these uber-wealthy neighborhoods, our clothes clearly reveal our lower economic station and particular occupation. Costco, in particular, seems to bring out the rudeness and classism hidden in these folks. Costco is a weird place on the Main Line: despite the fact that it's whole premise is about buying in bulk to save money (like Sam's or BJ's), it's always packed and the customers are incredibly rude to each other, but especially towards us. Cutting people off with carts and jumping in line is par for the course, as is rudely demanding items and assistance from the staff. They have actually sneered at my mother and I (even more pronounced as I run to get the free samples of food), swaggering about in our dirty work clothes while they are crisply ironed and coiffed. We have even been approached in Costco TWICE by people looking for cleaning ladies (one woman indicated she wanted us specifically because we spoke English. Charming). It's that obvious that we don't belong, and the treatment given decidedly reveals that.

Talking to the poor folks who work at this particular location reveals that while at normal Costco locations, the customers are required to bring their coupons with them to get their discount, at this store, people put up such a fuss that they just automatically give everyone the discount to avoid a fight with a prick, trippin' on their own privilege. Costco is also the only place on the Main Line that I have ever seen Hispanic or black people...and they're all working there. They're also nice to Mama Sheriff and I. Is it because they know we also commute an hour to work in those gilded neighborhoods? Or is just because they have to be kind to make their hourly wage? I'll never know, but I appreciate it nonetheless while I'm in (what feels like) hostile territory.

Let it be said, however, that the vast majority of my Mama's actual clients are wonderful people: I have babysat their children, housesat for them, fed their horses, and she has been to their weddings and christenings. Which clearly indicates that once you know someone well enough, differences of economic stature and education don't have to be dividing lines. But at least out in public, with poorly dressed strangers, many people don't give that a chance to occur.

Have you ever been treated poorly because of your appearance? Or, have you ever judged someone and maybe treated them crappy based on theirs? Talk to me.

Much love,
The Sheriff

30 years later.

source

Yesterday marked the 30th anniversary of first formal medical report on the disease that we know today as AIDs. It's hard for me to imagine, having been born in 1989 and all, a world without a fear of contracting death through sexual contact with people we love.

Despite the increased awareness and research and ever-evolving treatments for HIV and AIDs, every year 50,000 Americans are infected with HIV according to the CDC. 50,000 people. And that's in America alone, where many people are educated about how the disease is contracted. The stats on other countries where stigmas about the disease often prevent people from access to adequate information and care are absolutely staggering.

So with these startling numbers, I ask you to do a little reading today somewhere else on the World Wide Web. Read some testimonials of people living (and often thriving!) with HIV. Read about the stats, the research, how you can help through donations, read and develop some compassion for these infected individuals who are not really that different from you. But most of all, please read about how to protect yourself. And then, for the love of God, go out and fuckin' do it. No one thinks they're the kind of person to get HIV, and that's a stereotype we need to smash. We are all vulnerable. Get tested, use barrier methods, practice safer needle use. Do what it takes to keep yourself and your loved ones safe.

Much love,
The Sheriff

links!

First of all: Sorry for the sparse posting lately. Life has been apeshit insane, BUT I promise to be more regular starting Monday. On to the links! 

Octo-mom Nadya Suleman's fertility doctor FINALLY has his license revoked.

Interested to see what craziness comes out from this: Palin's emails from her time as governor of Alaska to be released.

Personhood debates. Eesh. Hoping this doesn't get in the way of access to birth control even more than recent BS already has. 

Humorous: male stripper workin' the pole on the subway.

I'll get drunk if I want! Damn fuckin' right!

Much love,
The Sheriff

fat as a feeling: why it's important to listen to fat talk

 Most folks know that I am a proponent of not letting friends diss their bodies (at least not in front of me). Sure, we all do it occasionally, but to critique your bod in a negative way in front of a group of women you love and have none of them speak up constructively is a crime to me. The typical response to a bodily complaint ("My calves are disgusting!") is to retort in kind ("Are you kidding? My thighs are monstrous!") or to dismiss the other person's concerns ("Shut up, your calves are lovely and strong."). And I've definitely done both of these, but I appreciate lately another approach: actually hearing their concerns and addressing them.

 Now, this doesn't mean that you have to indulge them in their bodily insecurities ("Yeah, your calves are pretty nasty."), since to do so would make you both an asshole and a bad friend. But rarely does someone merely complain about their body merely to get their feelings off their chest about their supposedly heinous attributes. It generally comes from a place of anxiety that is displaced onto their body, particularly in eating disordered individuals or people with disordered eating, but frankly in all women as well.

I was reading Purge by Nicole Johns for the first time (warning: VERY triggering) recently and underlined the crap out of this passage:

"To be more precise, fat is a combination of feelings and experiences. It is a complex feeling, a collection of simple feelings bound together. I notice my body more when I am in an uncomfortable situation, when I am emotionally overstimulated or fearful. By focusing on my body at the precise moment when I am so emotionally uncomfortable, I am deflecting the uncomfortable emotions onto something tangible—my body. When I say I’m feeling fat, I am eluding my feelings; it is a defense mechanism."

 Saying that you feel fat is rarely, if ever, about actually having gained weight. Perhaps that might be a factor too, but usually it's fueled by anxiety about what to do with the next step in life, or feeling insecure in a sexual relationships, or afraid of changes. I'm not at all surprised that my eating disorder made a resurgence in my junior year of college, when I was going through a shift in my relationship and trying to figure out what to do with my life and generally feeling pretty lost. But all of those emotions were deflected and labeled simply: fat. Fat can be controlled, and sometimes it feels that emotions can't. Which is simply untrue! It's a skill that has to be learned, but it absolutely can be.

So just don't tell your friends with body woes to STFU: dig a little deeper, ask some questions about what's going on in other areas of their life, and get to the bottom of their fat feelings. I bet it'll be more therapeutic for everyone.

What do you think? Ever find yourself doing this yourself?

Much love,

The Sheriff

friday links

The differences in dating/courtship between New Zealand and Sweden. Interesting!

But Mom, what if I don't wanna get married?

Parents keep child's gender under wraps. Interesting, but I'm not sure I agree entirely with their approach (that's a big burden to put on a child...but so are gender norms. Blargh). 

You've probably seen this video, as it's been making the rounds on FB but this chick gives some legitimate criticism of Beyonce's latest single (though I do love my some B). 

A different POV: why didn't I ever get married?

Conservatives declare victory over abortion: this kinda makes me want to puke. At least they feel defeated with all the homo rights.

Cringe! Dove body wash ad with unintentional (I hope!) racism. Eesh.

Oddly, I was watching the View during Gaga's interview (one of my Mama's customers had it on) and agree 100% with the statement that Gaga doesn't really have much to say anymore.

Much love,
The Sheriff

sexting and the modern woman

not from my iPhone, for the record, as I do not have one.

 As I enter into this sort of quasi-single undefined stage of my romantic life, I am shocked by how common sexting really is. It's not just limited to high schoolers, though that brings up interesting legal questions in its own right (in some states, even sending pictures of yourself to someone else is illegal if you're under 18!). EVERYBODY does it, it feels like. These damn whippersnappers, I tell ya. It varies from just verbal descriptions of scenarios to pictures of boners (for the record, listen up men: a penis in isolation is rarely sexy, at least to most of the females I know. Word to the wise).

And while I am certainly not a prude and have been known to very much enjoy sending some sexually explicit texts and even quasi-nude photos to serious significant others, this trend does sort of baffle me. To send a naked photo (even one without your face in it), to a person you barely know? Especially when it is practically demanded of you by a near stranger you met at a bar (which it often is, in my totally anecdotal research of asking my friends about this very important social issue)? But is it really that different from one night stands, where you get naked with a near stranger?

I say YES since with a fling, the image of your hot nude bod might be seared into their memory forever, but it's not saved on their laptop or phone with the potential to be sent and spread all over the tech-linked universe. Technology really adds a whole new dimension to sex and relationships. Obviously, it's great for a lil flirtation and communication, but it's got some issues too. It encourages this false sense of intimacy, reading things on their Facebook that you have in common ("Oh my god, she likes Nas too?!") and texting without much face-to-face interaction which is, after all, where most of the magic (sexual or romantic) happens. And ya know, the insistence on sending naked photos is a little off-putting too.

Where do you stand in this important debate? Is it dangerous, stupid, silly, hot, fun, none of the above?

Much love,
The Sheriff