spitting: sexy, gross, degrading?

Hey ya'll,

So the Sheriff has had a new man since January. He is a smart, deeply progressive, sweet man in touch with his emotions (but not, as I'm sure he would assure you, in a way that makes you question his preferences). Marvel is a great fit for me, and we have had some legendary intimate moments.

But sometimes we have some that are less...delightful. Including an incident involving spitting.

 source

Being an assman, we are often in some variation on doggy style, and happened to be there one night when he realized I needed some more lubrication to keep the fun going. His solution? To spit on me. Of course, his spit did not land on its intended target, but instead right on my asshole, swiftly ruining the evening for both of us.

I know there are many people who find the act of spitting during sex to be practical: if something needs more lube, and your mouth makes natural lube, why not? Easy solution. Others, I'm sure, find spitting to be sexy in some sort of primal way.

I ain't one of them.

For me, it is primarily a distraction. There is nothing about that happening that fits well into the rhythm of sex most of the time, and when it comes as a surprise, it is even more distracting.

Then of course, there's that pesky feminist side of me that just doesn't like anyone, male or female, spitting on me and my ladyparts. I don't know that I consciously find it degrading so much as I just find it a little bit off-putting and gross.

But what say you, dear readers? Is spitting sexy, nasty, or just downright degrading? Does it matter who spits on who?

Much love,
The Sheriff

PS--follow on Twitter @ff_sheriff

sorry for the hiatus/hello summer!

Hello lovely blog readers!

Good lord, it's been a minute since I've had a real post in here. What a shame. Living in this absurdly fast-paced world really encourages the loss of hobbies, personality, and enjoyment.

But! I am back. Now on summer break from my Real Job, the hope is that I'll have the time and energy to get back to being a person with (sometimes) interesting opinions and the ability to write about them.

Personal update aside, I've missed you all immensely, and am excited to be back! I have a feeling that the style of the blog will be a bit different: I'm older (all of 23, and with the wrinkles to show for it), and have been conditioned to cuss a little bit less from working so much with kids (who will indeed judge every damn word that comes out of your mouth). But the opinions and questioning and feminism and sex will most definitely continue.

The blog, for now, shall remain private. Unless I can find a way to reconcile blogging about sex with my job (any advice, please let me know!).

 FYI, if you want to spread the word so people can read this super exclusive and private blog, there is a universal sign-in that can be used to everyone can read it (yay!). Feel free to share this info as you wish!
Username: reader.ff@gmail.com
Password: fornicating

Much love,
The Sheriff

PS--follow The Sheriff on twitter @ff_sheriff!

two years later.

Five months of not blogging was awful.

But the pain of it is lessened by the fact that today marks two years without my eating disorder. Full complete years with no purging, no starvation, no exercise until I felt like fainting.

I'll be honest: I was scared I wouldn't make it till this point. Not that slipping up is the end of the world, or even the end of my recovery, but it is lovely to be able to reflect on such a sustained streak of recovery (and it makes me feel like a BOSS). Transitioning into the real world was full of huge gaping holes for me to fall into: not having a pack of intense women making sure I damn well made it to dinner, not having free counseling in the happiest feministy place on earth, being so busy that some nights I just fall onto my bed naked after my shower and hold my head to stop my brain from zooming around so much. The dating scene (ugh. Posts to come up on that ish). The 12 interviews I went on before I landed my amazing job. The paying rent and loans business. Plenty of real legitimate stress factors. But they didn't paralyze me like I thought they might. I kept on trucking on.

And I feel pretty damn proud.

Much love,
The Sheriff

maybe getting fatter and maybe not caring

As noted previously, I am still new to this whole cooking thing. Being blessed to go to a school that forces you to stay on the generally mediocre meal plan for all four years, I did not really ever have to cook in college, nor did I have the cash moneys to buy ingredients. Hauling tons of food from the grocery store into my house and storing it and then figuring out what the hell to do with it was simply too much when I already so much on my plate, like Res Life and class and putting clothes on. Plus, there was that whole eating disorder resurgence thang that generally left me with even less desire to learn how to make food and consume it.

But now, fully and totally left to my own devices in terms of feeding, it's sink or swim. And the Sheriff is swimming (dog paddling, really) but learning that cooking is not my forte. I get immense satisfaction when something I make is delicious, but when it's just palatable, my motivation to cook again is reduced even further by lack of being a cooking show rock star by natural talent. And yet, feed myself I must. So sometimes my meals are less than balanced: breakfast might be a pop-tart stolen from the snack closet at school, and dinner could be Triscuits, cream cheese, and whatever my roommate is making and willing to share. Working out on the regular has been reduced to random planks and pushups and once a week yoga.

So while I do not have a scale to consult/obsess over and all of my clothes still fit, I am starting to feel a bit softer. A bit fatter, even. And somehow, I don't really care. It's not at the level it was my first year of college, where I gained 40 pounds (yep, 40. Suck it, Freshmen 15), and was just impressed by my own fat and also too happy drinking full-fat chocolate milk with every meal too care. But still. There's a level of apathy and simple observation over the changes that I think is kinda worth celebrating.

I attribute this to several things: being so busy that worrying about my maybe expanding thighs simply doesn't fit in the agenda, living and working in a community that (generally) praises and gets a boner over a more hourglass/thick figure (see: every song about booty performed by a black man), the fact that my clothes are usually not very structured so a little expansion is excusable. But above all else, I think it's more that I feel like what I'm doing with my body and my mind is a lot more important than what my body's looking like these days. Besides, I've still got dudes for days so I'm not too concerned about my attractiveness factor.

And yet. I'm a human, and I've been at least a little brainwashed with the idea of what a "hot" body looks like for a young white woman, and know that I am moving slightly away from that as I acquire a bit more cushion for the pushin, as they say. The insecurities are still there; I'm not superwoman at fighting them off all the time. But slowly, I'm getting there. Sometimes, it is that easy.

Ever had this experience? How do you react to bodily change, especially when it's during a period of intense life changes as well?

Much love,
The Sheriff

the PSU sex abuse scandal: a few thoughts

Growing up, I hated Penn State. HATED THEM. They embodied everything that young angry punk rock Sheriff hated: overly happy, athletics obsessed, beer soaked, and hard mentality driven fools in Pennsylvania (not that I was stereotyping or anything). I always doubted Joe Pa's squeaky image for the team, having heard many lurid urban (really rural) legends of the craziness of Penn State football team party antics and such. Most of the kids who did have the grades to go to college from my high school went to Penn State--getting into main campus was achieving the dream for some. I sneered at these minions and went to my fancy pants lady college and had a ball and became actually less of an asshole towards PSU folks. But the herd mentality still made me uneasy, as I've discussed here before.

So the sex abuse scandal that's going on right now is shocking but somehow also not entirely unexpected to me. How could a patriarchal, old boys club not cover up something of this proportion? If you can stomach it and are not easily triggered, I suggest you read the grand jury indictment. It makes the whole institution look negligent for not doing more to stop it, and frankly, I absolutely include Joe Pa in that group. He was the figurehead and he had to be fired if for nothing else to make the trustees feel better, but he also did one of the worst things someone can do when things are going wrong: doing the minimum required to stop the badness. It's not quite the Kitty Genovese effect, but it's enough that he absolutely deserved to get fired for his lack of action. I don't care if he's the winningest man in college sports. I don't care if he's ancient. I don't care if this team has been his life and the season's almost over.  A BOY WAS RAPED IN THE SHOWER AND HE DIDN'T CALL THE COPS. Period. The efforts of PSU students to raise money/awareness for child abuse survivors are a touching gesture and genuinely seem to be coming from a good place, but the riots the night of Joe Pa's firing? Less so.

I'm still so angry about this it's hard for me to think straight. What say ya'll?

Much love,
The Sheriff

PS--this adds some good questions to stir the pot further.

farewell

I am incredibly sad and pissed that this day has come.

But here it is.

FF readers, you've been with me (maybe) for a year and a half. And you've read good and less good posts (some quite excellent, if I may get my brag on for a hot sex), explicit and theoretical posts, my ramblings and guests eloquent words.

But, for at least the foreseeable future, I gotta say good-bye.

Which breaks my heart and is actually making me tear up as I type this.

My life right now is very full, and delightfully and stressfully so. I've got an awesome city to get to know, and amazing friends both new and old, and a very intense job that not only has me physically at work breaking up fights and attempting to teach from 7 to 3 but that also includes planning engaging lessons and taking certification classes and scrambling for supplies.

I just cannot give this blog the love and attention and posting it deserves right now. And as much as I still fight for women and body image love and feminist yearnings all over the place, these causes have been supplemented with also fighting the achievement gap and poverty and racism.

I have so much enjoyed reading your comments and hearing about discussions spurred by postings here, and I hope that you all continue to keep these conversations going in your own lives. Activism doesn't have to be protests and pins on your backpack; talking to people and calling them out on their bullshit is equally, if not more, important!

Keep fighting the good fight. Hopefully I'll be back here someday.

Much love,
The Sheriff

friday links

I'm happy and my friends can't stand it!

Bisexuality and hiphop---this piece is good ish.

Beyonce's pregnancy and the debate over its meaning is sorta silly. But I'm pretty excited to see how damn cute this behbeh is.

Just married 'mos! HAPPINESS.

Who falls to addiction and who gets past it? This one hits home.

Adventures in open marriage.

5 things ya should know about marriage.

Ladies, does your poop smell? Here's a cure!

Much love,
The Sheriff