#to ask me “did u study abroad in spain for a while? u use all their expressions and the accent is surprisingly strong!” NOOOOOOOOOOOOO

[mainfaggot]

i literally cannot escape the clutches of the spain spanish accent. this is thee third time someone has told me it sounds like i studied in spain

[80s-roger]

Flirty & Insistent

Pairing: 70s!Roger Taylor x Fem!Reader

note: female reader's ethnicity will not affect the person who reads it. She's just greek and she already has a name but the POV will be in second person.

also, i won’t post smuts/series as often as i did until next month, due to uni’s exams period. but i’ll reblog and stuff, u kno. I’ll work in the meanwhile your requests xx love you all 

ps i worked hard on this one, i hope you like it as much as i did. feedback will be massively appreciated.

requested by anonymous:

"Plss write something smutty about roger being a massive flirt and being soo cheeky the reader(after trying acting indifferent and unimpressed) eventually gives in to the temptation of letting him have his way with her?? 💕💕 "

masterlist // dialogue prompts

summary: you left your country a decade ago to study in the UK and after graduating you established in Mallorca, Spain to work as a mixologist. That summer night, you're working for a party arranged by Queen's management to celebrate their "A Day At The Races" era success. The blonde drummer notices you fixing drinks with confidence and doesn't lose the chance to flirt with you. He's just trying too hard because you play it uninterested until he has his way with you.

word count: 3,933

warnings: surface sex, slow burn (becauase they were talking a lot before, idk if it really is a slow burn tho)

A huge party was taking place in Mallorca, with the famous rock band Queen being the main guests of the event. You were one of the bartenders so all you had to do that night was fixing drinks for every person until they'd be shitfaced. The preparations were ready: the event was hosted at the beachside, opposite the calm waves and the golden sand. The sunset was magical to stare at, ready to welcome the bright moon. You had a moment to appreciate it before guests would come at any moment. It was the only thing that reminded you of your ex without feeling angsty about it; you gotta admit you didn't break up with good terms. It was toxic, yet heartbreaking. You loved that man but he left after cheating on you. It's been half a year and you needed to give yourself a break from dating and making out regardless of how social your job is and how much flirt you've received.

The guests arrived, minute by minute they'd get from fifty to hundred. Many people were coming to your counter to order drinks and cocktails. Beautiful women and attractive men would try to flirt with you but turned them down politely saying while you're working you can't do otherwise so they respected it. All these people were actually invited by Queen, their management and the entire record company. They were all celebrating Queen's "A Day At The Races" success and certainly the band which were yet to be seen until midnight.

You were working your ass for a couple of hours now until the band showed up. You could tell by the huge welcoming. The applause, the cheers and definitely women cajoling over them. Here they were standing in the centre of attention, thanking everyone for supporting them and buying their records. Their music was playing at the stereo and you couldn't prevent yourself from jamming to their songs.

When their speech was over, everyone was free to do what they wanted so your bar counter was full again with people chatting and drinking. You saw the entire fucking band coming to your place, obviously for an order. You tried to stay calm because hands-off, you liked their music and fangirled a lot when you saw them live last year in London with your boyfriend.

"Hello beautiful, can I have some Moet & Chandon, please? I really need to celebrate!" Freddie spoke first, carrying a wide smile on his face.

"Sure." You kindly accepted his offer.

"I'd like the same with Freddie." Brian interrupted when you moved behind to grab the expensive bottle and open it.

"So do I." John added and you nodded to grab three glasses, for now.

"And you?" You turned your gaze to the blonde handsome drummer who was already checking you out, focusing especially on your face.

"What do you suggest?" He asked with his eyes being totally flirty.

"Ah, darling, just give us the bottle. Roger is kind of undecided when it comes to drinks." Freddie felt the weird vibe growing between Roger and you. John and Brian giggled, looking whether at Roger or you.

"Eh, our waiter will do it for you. Just sit at your table and he'll take care of you." You kindly warned and he laughed.

"Oh, alright then love. We'll wait for our bottle." He laughed and left with his bandmates, leaving Roger and you alone.

"So? What do you suggest?" Roger turned his gaze back at your eyes.

"What do you feel like drinking? Something sweet, strong, alcohol-free?" You asked trying to help him but he was certainly not trying to find what to drink. He was clearly trying to flirt with you.

"Something to keep me up all night, I guess. But don't make me feel dizzy." He put on a crooked smile and hell, he was attractive as fuck. He knew how to play.

"Right, how does a mojito sound?" You recommended.

"Sounds nice and local." He smiled and you turned around to grab the ingredients. "Are you local? 'Cause your accent doesn't sound British to me." He asked, trying to start a conversation.

"Eh no, I am from the Mediterranean area though." You laughed after turning again to him.

"Italian?" He guessed.

"Greek." You answered.

"Oh, I've been to Greece twice." He started.

"Really? When?" You turned your gaze surprised. You had no idea he has come to Greece for holidays.

"Two years ago I was with my ex-girlfriend, in Santorini. The sunset there is amazing. And the next year I went with John and Brian to Crete. We needed a dose of some Mycenaean civilisation. Thankfully we weren't noticed by fans or anyone else. We were clearly there for tourism." He explained. You were impressed he's seen your country, visited two of the many islands your country has.

"Well, we had some political issues when you guys came to Greece. We were recovering from the junta and had some important historical issues by the end of 1974 so I doubt they'd run behind you, no offence." You laughed while fixing his drink.

"Oh, that's bad. But I understand. How come you're here in Mallorca being a bartender?" He asked and leaned closer to you. There was a nice conversation going on.

"Before junta ruled my country, I was sent to England to study because my parents thought I would be privileged. Now you see me in Mallorca because I work here and besides, I wanted to live somewhere that reminds me of Greece. Studying abroad has the privilege of learning a new culture, a new way of life and so on. Which is so wrong for the locals back home." You explained and cut a slice of lemon before having it ready for him.

"Wait, by saying it's wrong, you mean that..." his brain stopped working for a second trying to understand what you meant.

"Patriarchy is the keyword. They want women to get married at 18 and start a family. But obviously, women have to stay home." You were triggered at your words and internally thanked your parents for giving you the chance to go abroad.

"Cheers to your parents then. I wouldn't get the chance to meet you tonight." He was impressed by your short storytime. "How do I say bottoms up in Greek?" He laughed after you placed him his drink.

"It's pronounced áspro páto." You smiled after saying a Greek word. It must have been a year since you last spoke Greek. You haven't visited Greece for a long time. You found yourself in Mallorca. It's spiritually free and not restricting.

"So, I haven't asked you yet. What's your name?" Roger asked after drinking. He made an oddly satisfying grimace which meant he liked your drink.

"Oh, it's Ellen." You answered. His gaze was literally focused on you the entire time. He wouldn't give up this easy.

"So Ellen, make yourself a drink. It's a treat for you." He offered and you kindly accepted. It's not bad, you've been offered many times. Besides, you needed a drink to stay energised.

"Thank you, Mr Taylor." You thanked him and then his smile vanished.

"If you want us to be in good terms, it's gonna be Roger." His hand was warning you.

"Thank you, Roger." You slightly smiled. "It's just that..." you stopped and checked around if your boss is nearby. "We are obliged to speak to our guests in plural." You whispered and he nodded. Possibly understood the situation.

"So what are you doing later?" He asked after swallowing a sip of his mojito.

"We're cleaning the mess and we're heading homes." You said after drinking a shot. A treated drink.

"I'm not talking about your colleagues. I'm talking about you." He was straightforward. He was so into you, it was obvious.

"Oh well, I'll clean up the mess and I'm heading home." You changed the point of view trying to cut off his flirty attitude.

"When's that time? Dawn?" He guessed.

"Probably at the morning. It's a Queen party, I doubt people will leave before the sun rises." You rolled your eyes sarcastically.

"So..." he started. "Have you been listening to our music?" He asked.

"Yes, since your first album. It was brilliant for a newly formed band." You said with a huge smile on your face and he appreciated it. He appreciated that you didn't fangirl in front of him, having that humble and uninterested attitude. He liked feeling like a predator trying to catch his bait.

"What's your favourite song of A Day At The Races?" He asked. He likes talking to people about his music.

"Definitely Somebody To Love." You affirmed, feeling passionate about your answer, that it seemed you could relate your existence to this song.

"Oh, it's a band's fave too. Well, you relate to this song, don't you?" He asked and his body was closer to yours. The counter was the only thing beside you.

"I guess I do." You looked down for a moment, thinking of your ex but his hand touched your jaw trying to lift you up. Your eyes were looking into his and this is how you noticed how blue they eventually are. An ocean.

"Is it about a guy? I'm sure he doesn't deserve you." He tried to cheer you up with his soft smile.

"It's not that. It's..." you sighed. "Well, this is getting too personal." You pulled back trying to stop the situation. But he wouldn't abandon his try.

"Do you have any specific lyric of the song you relate the most?" He asked.

"Yes, there is that one: I've spent all my years in believing you but I just can't get no relief, Lord." You kind of explained the situation within a couple of lyrics. "He cheated on me. He had the audacity of saying it to my face and left without looking back or apologising." You nearly tore but tried to keep it for yourself. This is getting too personal and you're opening your heart to a stranger that you feel comfortable with. Maybe because you've been listening to him and his bandmates for years and you've seen him live too.

"You know..." he looked down for a second trying to find the words. "At least he was honest. He could keep you for his entertainment if things didn't work with the girl he possibly slept with." He tried to wake you, but he was right.

"I don't even know how long he was cheating on me. However, I did notice a weird behaviour in the last couple of months we were together." You answered.

"Be happy that you're not with him anymore. He took your love for granted. This is not how it works." He said with his eyes still focused on yours.

"You know, we once saw you live. Last year." You tried to avoid talking about your ex the entire time.

"Oh! That's great! Did I look nice?" He joked and he gained a laugh from you. That made him feel nice.

"Definitely, you always look nice." You took a moment to check him out. And hell, he looks and smells so nice.

"I'm flattered." He smiled and you pulled back again to do your job. You could see your boss staring at you. That wasn't good.

"You better get going, my boss is supervising us." You said and he got the hint. You were as cold as you could be.

"Sure, will I see you later?" He asked and stood up from his chair, ready to leave.

"No. I'll be too tired by then." You answered and he was saddened by your reply. He thought he had you. His flirting wasn't sufficient. Which means he had to try again.

He left and walked to his bandmates, they were there talking about their success until Roger joined their conversation but it changed as soon as he sat on the sofa next to Brian.

"So, how did it go Rog?" Freddie asked and they were all ready to hear.

"She seems so uninterested and hard to get, I have to try again." He took out one of his cigarettes, ready to smoke and think.

"Ah, your type of girls Roger." Brian laughed. "You like feeling a hunter don't you?" He added.

"Of course I do. But she recently broke up and I reckon she's still into him. How do women's brains work anyway?" He asked, frustrated.

"Oh darling, I don't see her as stuck with her ex as you think she is. She's been avoiding your flirting because she works here." Freddie had a point and John nodded.

"Just wait for her shift to end and make a move. She noticed you were flirting with her." John suggested and they all agreed to it.

"It's gonna take hours. She said it's possible for the party to end after dawn. She also has to clean up with her colleagues." Roger explained and turned his gaze back to you. But you were already looking at him and when you noticed, you turned back to your counter.

"Fine, then do it now," Freddie advised and Roger looked at you considered. "Wait where's she going?" Freddie asked after noticing your figure leaving your position.

"James, would you mind taking my place for a moment? I really need to use the bathroom." You called for your colleague who politely came to your counter.

"Sure, go ahead. I'll be here as long as you need." He smiled and you left for the bathroom to take a very needed pee.

"Shall I go after her?" Roger asked.

"Fucking go!" Freddie pushed Roger to run after you no matter how awkward it would be.

You walked in the staff-only bathroom, rushing to the toilet. After drinking a few shots, you needed to pee like a champion. When you pushed the flusher you unlocked your door and the very first thing you saw, was Roger standing at the wall.

"What the hell are you doing here, get out!" You were shocked by his presence and he wouldn't move.

"This is the only chance I have with you right now. Your boss can't see us." He came closer to you.

"No, but he'll get suspicious!" You tried to pull back until you reached the counter. Now you were sandwiched between Roger and the counter. There was no space between you. His face was coming closer to yours.

"I locked the door in any case." His nose tickled yours and his hands placed you on top of the counter, sitting now and having his bulge, against your area. That feeling is the shit.

"I work here, I can't..." you tried to refuse but the feeling of getting fucked couldn't stop you.

"I can't be in this toilet too, but here I am." His lips touched yours with passion and lust. His arms wrapped your waist and lowered down to your arse, squeezing it gently and your hands moved to his neck and his cheeks, trying to hug most of it. You haven't gotten kissed nor fucked for a long time.

Living on the west side of Europe had given you many opportunities. The situation you're currently now couldn't even be referred to Greek religious people as a joke. They'd freak out and tell you crap like you ashamed your honour, your family and your future husband. Your parents were too open-minded to let you live in West Europe and live your life as you wanted to. You had sex with your boyfriend at nineteen, with no need to be your first wedding night, you wear shorts on summers because you feel like it and now you're having a one night stand with a rockstar of a band you like and it's never gonna be the same anymore. You played it hard-to-get because you felt it was wrong. But it wasn't. It's just one more experience to add to your diary.

"Are you sure you want to do this, here?" He stopped the kiss for a second, to ask for your approval.

"Yes, but let it be fast, or I'll be in trouble." You checked at the door. "Are you certain the door's locked?" You asked.

"Yes, I am. It's just that..." he stopped.

"What?" You were scared he regretted it and he'd leave you like the mess you already are.

"I want to get more of you, but in this counter, I don't have the chance. I'll cope with it." He unbuttoned your suit while your hands tried to unzip his jeans.

"If you stay a little longer in Mallorca, you can get more of me." You winked and he smiled, thinking he has more chances with you.

"Works for me." He whispered and turned to your lips again for a passionate kiss.

He helped you with taking your suit off, now staying on your bra when your hands put his jeans down. "Mind taking your bra off?" He asked while his mouth travelled your neck, giving it soft kisses.

"I'd rather wear it..." you refused taking it off after gaining a lot of insecurities because of your ex-boyfriend. You remember him saying how small your breasts are and with that, no other man can see it. Your A-cups haven't be seen by any other man. Not even by your ex after the second time, you had sex with him.

"As you wish..." he didn't insist and pulled your skirt up, on your waist, with his bulge rubbing against your core and turning you instantly wet. "How long has it been?" He asked after noticing the humidity between your legs with his hand.

"Must be eight months. I'm out of practice." You sighed.

"Don't feel bad about it, I'll do the work. You're already wet for me. I like it." He bit his lower lip and turned to your lips again, for a deep kiss. "God, you are fat-bottomed aren't you?" He smiled between the kiss after squeezing your thighs and your small waist. "I'm starting to have a thing for greek girls." He complimented your body type and that boosted your low confidence level. With a simple move, he placed you against the mirror, taking your thong off your left leg to have clear access inside your wet area. His hand pulled his erected penis out of his black underwear, ready to thrust inside you.

"You better start before I cum untouched." You exhaled and balanced yourself at the counter.

He smirked and trusted inside you, feeling him completely weird inside you, maybe because you haven't had sex for more than half a year. The sensation was amazing and penetration was always the thing that released you from thoughts. His hands squeezed your thighs and each thrust was a try to pull you closer to his pelvis. You couldn't stop breathing heavily. You had to be quiet and so did he. It was a staff-only bathroom and the key was turned horizontally so no-one could break in with a spare key.

"Oh god, this is amazing..." you moaned at every pleasuring wave while your hands played with his blonde hair.

"Fuck, yes, you're so tight and wet for me." He tightened his teeth as he exhaled into your ear.

His thrusts were giving you the orgasm you haven't had for a long time. It was the tension between you, that made it more passionate but fast enough to make you come earlier than you thought. Soft whimperings coming from your mouth sent him the message that you were close enough and so was he. You could tell by his sharp thrusts, getting smoother and sudden. His gaze was focused on your eyes. Your sight was getting blurry and your legs began to shake; it happens when you reach your orgasm and it feels terrific.

"Ah, God..." you moaned and tilted your head behind, where the mirror is. "That was so refreshing." You gasped after wearing your thong again.

"Ain't gonna lie, but this WC shag was the best I had." He laughed and wore his underwear and jeans again.

"I can't make comparisons to it, I've only had two boyfriends in my life and this is my first time fucking a stranger at my workplace's restroom." You buttoned your suit and stood up from the counter to fix yourself.

"Stranger?" He asked confused.

"Stranger, Roger. I mean, I do know you're a rockstar, a member of my favourite band and I've seen you live once but it won't change the fact you're a stranger. I know you as a persona, not as a person. You get it?" You tried to explain how it feels.

"Oh, I see." He nodded. "Will I see you again? I want to know you as a person if you want that too." He suggested.

"Sure." You kissed his cheek gently, letting him take the lead. You wanted him to make the move. "I'll just walk out from the WC first and make sure no one sees you when you get out." You said and walked through the door until someone tried to get in. A knock on the door was heard.

"Ellen, are you still in there?" It was James.

"Yes, I'm coming." You internally panicked and hinted at Roger to hide in the toilet. "Hey James, is everything alright?" You asked after opening the door.

"Yes, I wanted to check on you. You were absent for a quarter. Are you okay? You look like a mess." James liked you for a long period of time but he wasn't your type. He's way too cute for your standards.

"Yeah, I'm fine... I just felt a little dizzy and wanted to wash my face with cold water. I needed it." You lied after checking your face in the mirror. You were red as a tomato.

"Oh, fine then. You should get back to your post. The boss has been looking for you." He pointed outside and you felt really bad about it. Your boss suspects you since the moment you started chatting with the blonde man hiding in the toilet.

"Alright, I'll be back in a minute." You closed the door to his face and rushed to the toilet where Roger was hiding.

"You're a cute little liar, aren't you?" He teased and gave you a little slap on your butt cheek.

"I won't be anymore if my boss finds out." You rushed, trying to leave the toilet.

"How will I reach you?" He asked trying to learn your phone number.

"Just come at my post and I'll hand you a drink." You declared and left the room, heading fastly at your post. You stared at the Queen members, looking at you all smiles and winks. They probably knew what happened a quarter ago.

You fixed another drink for Roger, trying to look calm and relaxed. But you weren't. You were tense and it could be seen. Two minutes later, Roger came to your counter again with a crooked smile on his face, waiting for the drink. He was looking whether at his bandmates or you. There was absolute silence.

"Here's your drink." You smiled and handed his drink with a small paper around the glass. He carefully grabbed the paper so it couldn't be seen and walked away, heading to the balcony.

He grabbed the paper, unfolded it and there was your phone number and a note in it: "thanks for giving me a good time Rog"

He smirked at your note and placed it in his pocket, anticipating the moment he'd call you.

[imyoursandthatsitwhatever]

*clears throat* strawberry, grape, kiwi, cranberry, nectarine!! ❤️

I SEE WHAT U DID THERE, JILL. ❤️

strawberry: favorite desserts?

Oh man, I truly love all desserts. I’m a huge chocolate fan, that’s usually a craving I have pretty often - Find me eating chocolate chips out of the bag, LOL. I am also very fond of pie and cheesecake.

grape: if you could take a vacation anywhere in the world, where would you go?

I am dying to go back to Europe. I studied abroad in Spain my sophomore year of college and got to visit England, France, Italy, Scotland, and Ireland. I would really like to go back to any one of those beautiful countries, but in particular, I have a dear friend I met through Tumblr who lives in Italy who graciously allowed me to stay with her for a week while I was traveling, and I would be SO happy to see her again. We literally had a very movie-esque moment where we saw each other across the train station and ran into a hug. It was everything and I miss her dearly. 💕 I also particularly loved Ireland? I really felt like I belonged there - I met so many wonderful guys that took me dancing and made me laugh! I spent about four days in Dublin and it just felt like such a great match for my personality. I would probably live out there and marry an Irish lad if I could, baha.

kiwi: what’s something that fascinates you?

This is a great question. I think my answer would have to be love, and how boundless it can truly be. My mom was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s 6 years ago, when I was 21 years old. She lives in a memory home 1.5 hours away from me, so from April to June I couldn’t visit her due to quarantine. I recorded a John Denver song (Annie’s Song) and sent it to the staff so she could listen to it, because she loves hearing me sing. And the staff member sends me this video of her listening to it, and I cannot even TELL YOU what a gift this video was. Right when the song started, my mom’s eyes got all wide and she got this big smile on her face, and she started singing along. She was bouncing her legs up and down, which she only does when she’s extremely happy, and she even reached for the phone when she saw my picture, like she knew it was me. Even through all the shit we’ve gone through with this disease, and the personality changes she’s suffered through, she’s never forgotten me. She still looks at me with this light in her eyes and I can always find this glint of recognition there. Like she’s hanging on to me as tight as she can. Like she wants me to be the last thing she ever forgets before she has to go. It makes me cry thinking about it. I’m just so grateful she still knows me. She’s my best friend in the entire world, and she has shown me that there is nothing that can quite match a mother’s love.

cranberry: favorite time of the day; morning, afternoon, dusk, or night?

I LOVE dusk. It’s so calming. I’m a night owl at heart, but nighttime can feel really lonely. Dusk is this really gorgeous in-between, where you have the bright spirit of the day kind of softly bleeding into the calmness of night. I love it.

nectarine: would you consider yourself an emotional person?

If I ever said no to this question my friends would probably worry for my sanity, haha. The answer is yes, EXTREMELY. I cry often, mostly from films or things I read. Sometimes I seek out shows or movies that I know will make me cry because I find it so cathartic? It just feels good to “be in my feelings” sometimes. I’ve done a lot of crying about the situation with my mom, obviously - but after 6 years, you just get used to how things are and although it hurts, it becomes more of a dull ache because you know this is your reality and you can’t change it. I try to make the best of every moment I have with her, and live my life the way she would have wanted me to.

Being such an emotional person has also gotten me stuck in two pretty awful relationships where I was emotionally abused and emotionally/financially manipulated. After that, I promised myself I would never settle for less, so I’ve been single for a long time now. And I think that’s okay. I’d rather be single and love myself than pour all my energy into someone who isn’t worth my time. My dad, who is an engineer, once said to me, “You invest too much emotional capital into people who don’t deserve it.” And he’s right. My best friend @confettidreamer, in the same vein, sent me a picture of a stone one day and it said “Watering a rock doesn’t make it soft.” These are just really good reminders for me, as a highly emotional person, to take care of myself. And the people who love me help me out a lot with that. (And my therapist, lol, I adore her.)

Thanks for asking, sweet Jill!! ❤️

[kristinracine34-blog]

hairy atk free - Sexy Hot Hairy Pussy Reviews & Tips

This happened when i moved to Spain for a year, turns out i bumped with my 3rd cousin Sarah, big coincidence, i was looking for a cheap place to stat the whole year, and one of her roommates just moved back home, she amateur hairy pussies immediately offered me the room and i took it. Never had trouble with the ladies thou. She is very attractive, not pretty, but has a huge sex appeal. Nice body, brunette, fit, medium boobs, amazing ass, and like i said her best asset is her sex appeal. I arrived to Barcelona and i planned to stay in a hostel the first week while i found some place to stay, a lot of people from my country live in the city so i thought it was going to be easy. A little background about it, we were both 22 when this happened, last time we saw each other before that, we were 15. On the other hand me, an average joe kind of guy, not super fit but not fat. It was a nice party, i was already mellow, pouring another drink when a girl comes to me and says "i know who you are but you probably don't remember me" well she was right, at first i was thinking that it was the first time i see that face in my life, then as we started chatting i could start seeing something familiar but when she laughed i recognized her. My dad and her mom are cousins, so i think that makes her my 2nd or 3rd cousin. When she turned 16 she moved to Barcelona, and i never got to see her again in those reunions. I move in with Sarah and her roommate Veronica. Well the night went on, and as i told u before she offered me a room that just got free at her place. For more information on amateur hairy pussies look at the internet site. Didn't doubt for a second, it was cheap, and i was about to live for a whole year with one hot girl and another one whom at this point i haven't met yet but turned out to be another hottie. I got in touch with some friends and they invite me to a party, best thing that could happen, perfect place to find a roommate. Can't remember exactly how the conversation went but it was very flirty since the beginning, what i can remember for sure is the impression that she made on me, she was fucking sexy, wearing leather pants a loose top that allow her bra to show and a ponytail. Btw Veronica is a blonde girl, petite with small boobs, but nice body, very pretty. We were never close since she used to live abroad growing up, we only saw each other at big family reunions that happened like every 2 years. She wasn't flirty with me, but was always very open with sexual topics and dresses very sexy. First girl on girl atk scary hairy pussy i wanna give you some details about what hairy pussy nude pics living with two hot girls feels like, i was one lucky son of a bitch. The first two weeks everything was very normal, we didn't get to see each other much, we coincided at nights and it was awesome, mostly chilling wathcing tv in our pjs, Sarah wore tank tops and shorts, Veronica wore panties with any long sleeve she could find, being open with those sexual topics, she shared that she loved sleeping naked. Some mornings they walked around in towels, i even got to see Sarah in her bra walking out of the bathroom, she acted very normal about it, i must have looked like a complete pervert that time staring at her boobs but nothing happened. Anyways, it was all very friendly throughout the first month, then came the month of July. The beautiful atk scary hairy pussy girls are very athletic and when they could they do yoga in the balcony, very nice sight. The night before she left we started chillin with some beers and weed, that turned the mood into a naughty night with dares and games like never have i ever, as i said before Veronica loved this kind of things, Sarah wasn't too open but the mood turned her very flirty too. So in general it was being very awesome living with those girls, not getting any action but loving every minute of it. They had a 6 week break, Veronica was going to travel with the family she worked for. Veronica made me strip to my briefs, i made her strip too and to my surprise and joy she did it, Sarah dared me to dance for Veronica, it was very silly, but then Veronica dared Sarah to strip specifically for me, she did it and it was amazing. By this point i was already sporting a semi hard, but i was sitting all the time so maybe they haven't noticed. She started by doing a ponytail in her hair, that to me was so fucking sexy about her. The apartment was a very old place, three rooms very close to each other, two bathrooms, and a big living/dining/kitchen room all joint together, what makes the place great is that it has a balcony. I remember i was so excited about it, they were both very sexy i was dreaming so many fantasies, but none of them could compare with what was about to happen to me. And went for it, stripped all the way to a black lacy thong and black bra, Veronica was wearing a white thong and pink bra. Obviously i was hard all the time. I woke up and Sarah was cleaning all the mess we left, i helped her finish and we made plans to go out get some food. Im not a super hung guy, but im very ok with what i got. Both girls were studying and working part time, Sarah works in a golf club and Veronica as a Babysitter for a rich family. Well my friends, by this point the deal was made. " first she was all shy just laughing, then said between laughs "im actually impressed and somewhat curious". That being said, when i stood up both of them stared for like 5 seconds that felt like 20 minutes, then they looked at each other and started laughing, i started laughing too, and the game stopped there, Veronica went to get another beer, she started dancing and we joined her, they both were very flirty but when i tried to kiss them they both rejected me and just teased me more. We got home and only got to the couch, it was just plain rough sex, we ripped each other clothes right away, i stood up and she started to suck my dick sitting in the couch, one hand on my balls the other on my shaft and her mouth working magic, then i returned the favour, she had a very nice shaved pussy, her moaning was incredible and her movements had me very excited. It was already sunrise when we stopped, Veronica took a shower and left, Sarah went to her room and i passed out in the couch. She said before she was on BC so without remorse i went and did as she said. I'll never forget when she whispered "now fuck me with all you got". It was my turn and i dared them to kiss, they refused, but instead Sarah made out with me, now my dick was like diamonds, Veronica must have noticed or suspected, as she dared me to stand up, i did kinda slow, staring at them, wanting to see their reaction. We started walking back home, it was a 15 minute walk any normal day, that time took us 30 minutes maybe, we stopped to make out 2 times. When i felt that she came, i just told her to turn around, i didn't tell her to suck my dick, she did it by herself and she knew what she wanted and what was about to happen. like 5 minutes went by and i told her to go doggy, so now she was with her knees on the couch and me standing fucking her doggy pulling her hair, another 5 minutes into this position and she starts saying that shes going to cum, well im about to pop too but so i try to hold with all my mind. Then she stood up to take a shower. It lasted maybe 15 minutes, but it was amazing, that night we watched a movie cuddling and that was the start to one of many hot experiences i had that year. I said that i was also very intrigued by her boobs, to which she said "im glad at least we can help each other". I know i made a lot of mistakes, but i just wanted to share, the important thing is that you get the point. My reflex was to instantly push what was left of my dick inside, i felt her stomach and legs tense up and started fucking her literally with all i got. I came so fucking much, all over her mouth face and boobs, we both collapsed in the couch. We went to a place nearby, and started talking about last night, she was very embarrassed as i joked that she should send her pics to victoria secret, then she said that i should do the same with calvin klein, i couldn't help it and ask "so u did like it? I always like starting it by slowly rubbing the tip of my dick on the clit, then i slowly put it in, as i was doing this she started moaning heavily and moving her hips like crazy, we were on missionary, she grabbed my back and again whispered "fuck me hard".

[the-a-i-khan-blog]

Grandpa Memoir

There are some people who come into your life and change it forever, and no matter what you can’t go back. There’s one friend who teaches you what being a real friend means, your first relationship teaches what it takes to make a relationship work, and those people who can teach you to always have fun no matter what. That was my grandpa, he raised me for my entire life. My mother wasn’t ready for a child. After my father's death, she parted her ways from me as she wanted to start her new life with someone else. I never realized how much I yearned for a mother’s love until I realized I would never get it. All my life, I believed one day she’d wake up and see that I was a lovable son. One day she’d open her arms and welcome me into her heart. Thankfully, my grandfather was there for me. They have given me more than I ever could have asked for. It took a lot for me to realize how fortunate I was to be placed in their care. Even though my grandpa passed away about 4 years ago, I still remember everything about him. If I could be like anybody, I would wish to become more like my late grandfather, whose memories have inspired me to strive for success, like the smell of old, dusty books which reminds me of his admiration on learning. An avid collector, he had many books, most of which went unread. He owned books on everything from medicine to Spain, to several sets of encyclopedias. After he faced health problems, he came less to the library and read fewer books. They became just part of the scenery, collecting only dust and memories. I have read a few now, after he is gone, and each time it brings back a hurt like a sore that refuses to heal. Our house had two floors with three bedrooms on the top floor and the storage rooms, where some of the goats also stayed on the ground floor. The house was built in the late 1800s before my father was born. However, the independent efforts of my grandfather established his early success in our business, as is evident by the roughness of his hands, a roughness resulting from the labor of his work throughout his life. At the same time, my father told me he would hold my father's hands, so gently with his rough hands when having a conversation with my father. He was always a fun person and looked for new adventures. Together, I and he would always go out and look for new small local diners together. Every other weekend we would go to a different one. Even when the places were bad, he still had a good time and laughed and joked. He made friends at every dinner we ate together at. Sometimes the good ones, we’d go back, and the waitress would laugh and joke with him as they took our orders. I’ve always looked up to my grandpa and how he had a way with people and making everyone in a room laugh. He could always make me smile, no matter what the situation is. I could be feeling down about something and he would go out of his way to make sure I felt better. Sometimes it was turning on the cooking channel and then trying to make the foods for me or other times it was just a drive on his car with me. Even though a drive may seem like nothing to most people but to us it was special. But he would always make me smile, and he made sure I always knew how proud he was of me. He supports me to learn new things when I am afraid in the beginning. I learned kindness, love, and affection from him. In the winter, we always went outside and walked on the little pond that had frozen over. I remember when we I was four years old and my grandpa and his friends were building the upstairs of their house. My little brother was outside alone playing by the pond and fell in the water. It’s not that deep, but for a 2-year-old it is. So, grandpa ran out of the house and jumped into the pond, scooped up my brother like a fishing cat catching prey. He got out of the water with him in his hands and then realized that his phone was in his pocket, so he went inside and put his phone in a bag of rice. My childhood was blessed, He was the one taking care of me and helping me move forward. I remember when I was 19 when I was accepted at University to study for a year abroad in the US. I went to him the day before I left to say goodbye. I said, “what’s the one piece of advice that I need before I leave grandpa?” He thought about it and said, “look up.” I took his advice to heart. Whenever life seems to be getting the best of me, I slow down and look up. My grandfather has worked his way up through his schooling and to go to college to get his degree. He has never given up even through the hard times that occurred in the 30’s and so on. It is astonishing that He can keep his head up high and his spirits strong through everything. He just makes me want to keep going and be successful just the same way that he was. It just gives me some sort of motivation and a sense of greater knowledge. Knowing that even though you go through a lot of things you can be very successful, just the way that she was. It helps me to understand to never give up. Whether it is in school outside of school. Or just in my day to day life altogether. Just look to the future, not the bad times that are going on right now. But for you to look at the good times that are to come. So, it is sort of the way that I live my life. And that’s the way that I wish others would live there’s as well. I look around and soak in the world around me. It works every time. Want to see the world? Slow down and look up. You’ll be amazed at what wonders you’ll see. One day at the end of my course at university when I received the worst news of my life. My grandfather has always seemed like the strongest man to me, I thought nothing could make him appear weak, and that’s why it came as such a shock to me when he was suffering from cancer. The last few months before his death was the worst. He had to stay in the hospital all the time. Most of the time he wasn’t there, he slept, for long hours at a time but when he did wake up he would joke around about how much he hated hospitals. Even though he was very sick, he still could make my face in a room light up and that’s what I always admired most. When he was in the hospital, I decided to make a list of memories, or things that I love about him. I don’t want to forget a single thing. So many of my favorite memories have you in them, Grandpa. Singing out loud with me while in our candy car was my favorite hobby. I’m sure Grandma wished that tape would somehow find its way to the garbage because you were probably so sick of listening to it on repeat. Man, we loved that tape. I also remember playing solitaire next to you, to pass the time while it rained. Cancer took my grandpa’s life, and for me, it was like losing a best friend. The emotions have been overwhelmingly intense. I didn’t even know anything could ever affect me so deeply. My body has been making sounds it’s never made before. I’ve been crying, shivering, waking up in the middle of the night with panic attacks. It’s been nuts. This is going to affect me for years to come. This cut is going to heal “ugly.” It’s like losing my mom, my grandmother and my best friend all at the same time. The last conversation we had, before his death I told him how much impact he had on my life. I told him I loved it the way u handled me at the time my mother left me. I told him to thank you for putting up with this crazy kid tearing up his house. He laughed and said, “You’re welcome.” Even though everything inside of me feels like a burning fire but I get the strength to wipe away the tears when I think about the last moment I spend with him. I am so grateful he died knowing what he meant to me. It helps the pain knowing that he understood how grateful I am that he stepped up when my father and my mother wasn’t around. Without my grandfather to believe in me, I realized that I didn’t even believe in myself. I still look up to him even though he isn’t here now. I tried to be positive even in the worst situations. I always tried to remember his lesson, this helps me to come up with my daily tensions and ups and downs of life. I fail though now and again, but I know my grandpa would be proud of me just for trying. He instilled in me the feeling that nothing is impossible in this world. It’s interesting that I had such a close relationship with my grandfather. Because people always judge you even your parents do; they say, ‘You shouldn't do this, you shouldn't do that, but with your grandparents, you have a feeling that you can say anything, or you can do anything, and they will support you. The best thing about Grandpa was he had time. Grandma was often busy preparing dinner, doing work, tidying up the house. But Grandpa would always put down whatever he was doing when she arrived, pour her a big glass of lemonade, and just look her in the eye and listen to whatever she had to tell him about her day. Then some days they worked on the big puzzle they were putting together, some days they washed the car, some days they went to the library and then curled up to read, whatever, Grandpa was always there for everyone. So, during my bad times, I try my best to stay positive. He made me learn that in this short and insignificant life and on your last day on earth, no one will judge you for the car you drove, or the size of the house you built or the money you made. People will remember you for the love and affection that you left behind and the respect you garnered through your deeds. My grandfather operated his life in a binary manner—pass/fail, good/bad, right/wrong. It surprises me that everything in the present world is grey nowadays. In this short life, have the courage to stand by your values and convictions. People who compromise on principles and values die every single day in the already limited time they have on earth. My grandpa was an inspiration for me. To say goodbye is too difficult, this is the unhappy moment that I have lived. It was 4 years ago, and I still remember each detail of that day. I still miss him so much, I need him, and I miss every moment that I spent with him. I fail though now and again, but I know my grandpa would be proud of me just for trying. So, during my bad times, I try my best to stay positive. I remember my grandpa every day.  I will miss you grandpa you led a simple and graceful life and your death taught me the resume I would want to build in life.  I remember my grandpa every day. Every time when I watch the cooking channel or go for a long drive I think of my grandpa. I keep him alive by telling funny stories and sharing his life lessons. I’ll always remember him.

[cheerstocrazy]

ONS Fit for GIRLS

First off I can’t believe I drove all the way to FUCKING HIGHLAND PARK FOR THIS!!! girl!! Are you that desperate??? I was walking down the street, and I saw him. He was shorter and bigger than I imagined. Saw the peacoat, saw the skinny pants, saw the doc martens and was like ehh.His voice was wayy higher pitched than I wanted. He sounded really nervous and like someone was pinching his throat when he talked. We got to the first bar and he didn’t even open the door and walk behind me!! BRUHHHHH, chivalry is dead. When we got to the darkly-lit hipster bar, he said in the most chipper and gay way “OKAY WELL SINCE YOU DROVE SO FAR, FIRST ROUND’S ON ME!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!” I will never forget the laughter afterward. My thoughts were just “Omg he’s gay fml. Also bitch, you’re getting every fucking round, or I’ll end your life.” He mostly talked about med school, which took up half the convo and we talked about Spanish and how we both studied abroad in Spain. I got a gin cocktail -- really good, really strong. There were these 2 drunk blonde hyenas who were sitting next to us and driving us insane. He wasn’t that great of a conversationalist, but he answered all my questions. We left to the next bar. The 2nd bar was cool and felt like a neighborhood bar. Got a beer and talked music and movies. He was like Ladybird wasn’t that good to which I wanted to slap him across the face. We talked about Michael B. Jordan and Fruitvale Station, which he surprisingly knew!! I legit thought he was joking bc he looked so unenthused. He said he liked Sufjan Stevens and started to nerd out abt LOTR, and I was like bruh please shut up. We went to the 3rd bar which was super loud and packed. I was mildly buzzed then got real drunk after my 3rd beer. We were screaming into each other’s ears at this point. The convo was dying down, but I directed it back to med school bc I knew that was a safe topic and he wasn’t asking me anything, but I knew he would talk. When I started to drink heaps of water, he was like do you wanna get out of here? Do you want to go back to play with my cat or go home? I said, I’ll play with your cat, who was the fattest, fluffiest, chillest cat EVER. It was really fun to be drunk and pet a cat that’s basically a dog. It waddles bc it’s 12 and has arthritis. I just kept petting it and wouldn’t look up while he sat near me grunting and breathing heavily. It was traumatizing, and he srsly needed to chill. I hate when guys don’t take initiative to kiss me/make the first move. That actually annoys me when they wait for me to look up or do everything. He was an absolutely terrible kisser. His kisses were super short and choppy -- he never let the kisses just linger or be passionate. It was annoying for me. I was like r u a dying fish WHY? I felt the muscles in his back when I was holding him, so he’s thick but at least he works out?? He just fingered me and I didn’t wanna do much else bc on period. I just tilted my head back and rolled my eyes, bc HE WASN’T EVEN GOOD. He kept putting his fingers against me and basically trying tostart a fire or spin a dj board. STOP IT.  It was so aggressive, not pleasureable. BLEGH He wanted to eat me out, bc he was slinking his head down there, but I was like dear god NO. When he was on top of me and abt to take his pants off (I was not attracted to his body), I was like are these shoe laces?? And he’s like THESE ARE JEGGINGS, THEY’RE NOT EVEN PANTS. HAHAHAHA!!! (The laugh that will forever haunt me) I was like oh god, I’m fucking a gay guy. Great. When we were making out, he said I don’t wanna make a mess. I thought he said I wanna have sex, to which I kept replying “on my period. no!” Lololol. His dick if really small, if I were to deep throat him, I don’t think it’d touch the back of my throat. I gave him a hj, and he’s like I don’t mind having sex with you on your period, so I said fine. Did that and NOT EVEN A MINUTE LATER, he stopped. I was like wtf why aren’t you doing anything (in my head), and it’s bc HE ALREADY NUTTED. I WAS SO LIVID!! WHO THE FUCK HAS SEX FOR A MINUTE????!?!?! WOW bye I hate him. He wasn’t even cuddly or anything, and I was so disappointed. SHOOK ugh. He passed out immediately. I slept on and off, but was mostly delirious. I had to set an alarm for the next morning. I was awake for most of the morning and was like when IS IT GONNA GO OFF?? When it did, I just turned it off immediately and closed my eyes bc I legit felt like I was dying. I couldn’t even open my eyes, I was so tired. I knew he got up earlier than me and got dressed a bit. He let me lie in bed for 5 more mins before awkwardly waking me up and saying hey, I think it’s gonna be 7 soon. I cant even imagine how awkward that was for him hahha. Hes like ugh, there’s a fucking stranger next to me (I felt the same when I was like I need my fucking earplugs). My hair was so disgusting and oily, the first thing I did when I got up was tie it up. I couldn’t find my clothes, and once I got dressed, I was like fuck Idek where my car is!! So I asked him if he could walk me to my car. The walk of shame is not fun when you’re with someone you were meh with. It wasn’t terrible, but I also considered rewinding and just walking myself out and getting lost for an hour trying to find my car instead. (Now I’m ok, and this experience is fine, but at the time it was just so groan inducing). Our body language, our faces -- we just weren’t having it. It was also super cold and he’s stupid and didn’t bring a sweater. We could’ve been filmed, it was a scene straight of Girls. Quiet and sleepy streets. Crisp morning. There was a Hispanic lady running through the streets with a scarf wrapped around her head like a balaclava. I thought it was so funny, and I wanted to laugh, but we weren’t on that level, I guess. When we got to my car, he wasn’t even abt to give me a hug, but we didn’t just sleep with each other not to do salutations without a hug. Goodbye!  His apt was super cute and his room was super nice and inviting. I would have loved to live in his apt and would decorate my room exactly like his. The ambiance was PERFECT, too bad he was the opposite of that.   White boi small dick mouther breather

[yes-dal456]

Just Because My Body Looks Healthy Doesn’t Mean My Eating Disorder Isn’t Real

This post originally appeared on Bustle.

By Ray Gallagher

I have strong, broad shoulders and ropy back muscles. On my better days, I imagine that I have the arms of Michelle Obama and the abs of Ronda Rousey. I have the thick, defined quads and calves of someone who has been playing sports for over two decades.

By most accounts, I adhere to conventional Western beauty standards. I am petite and trim. Since the dawn of the fitspo, athletic bodies are more “in” than ever, and I align with this idealized version of the female form. By all outward appearances, I am the Instagram-ready depiction of feminine health. I may look #swoleselfie ready, but what most people don’t know is that I actually suffer from an eating disorder. The truth is, eating disorders, like pretty much all mental illnesses, are notoriously difficult to diagnose. With overlapping symptoms, individual differences among patients, and subjective diagnostic criteria, it can be difficult for even seasoned therapists to diagnose an eating disorder.

For the longest time, I certainly didn’t truly recognize the extent of my issues. After all, I wasn’t rail-thin. I wasn’t fainting in the hallway like Miranda from that one episode of Lizzie McGuire. I certainly wasn’t ready to be laid up in a hospital bed and hooked up to a feeding tube, like that one girl from freshman year homeroom, so I couldn’t possibly have an eating disorder, right?

I was able to ignore some of the more subtle indicators that I had an eating disorder primarily because I didn’t experience too many of the very common ones. It’s the type of logic that alcoholics and drug addicts employ: if I’m not at rock-bottom, it can’t be that bad.

Like many pre-teen girls in America, my body image issues began when I hit puberty in middle school. It was easy being the cute, scrawny kid with knobby knees, adorable bangs, and a wiry torso. It wasn’t so easy being the pudgy sixth grader with awful eyebrows. But with all of the awful changes that middle school brought, it did introduce me to the one thing that changed my life: field hockey.

My eighth grade best friend encouraged me to try out for the team. “It’s not that hard, and you probably won’t get cut since you’re an eighth grader,” she told me. I made the team, and thus began my career as a varsity athlete.

Now playing a varsity sport, I noticed that I lost a little fat and gained some muscle. My body composition changed with each field hockey season, accompanied by summers spent running on the boardwalk and spring semesters filled with lacrosse. It seemed obvious, but it was the first time I made the connection that sports and fitness could mean having a conventionally attractive body.

I managed to make it through high school without having any eating disorder drama. I watched what I snacked on, I was busy with sports, and my mom cooked healthy dinners. What did I have to worry about?

Everything changed when I got to college. I wasn’t used to the freedom of an all-you-can-eat self-serve dining hall. Field hockey practice was a lot different than at the high school level, with less in-season focus on conditioning and more focus on developing technical skills. Coupled with normal late-adolescence weight gain, I began obsessing over my appearance. I would check my stomach in the mirror constantly, and assess my face for any double-chins that may have been lurking. It was also around this time that I started experimenting with diet restriction. I pretended to be a vegetarian for six weeks, but I really just wanted to see if cutting out meat would make me any skinnier. Spoiler: it didn’t.

Things didn’t truly get out of control for me until my spring semester junior year, when I studied abroad in Spain. I was excited for the program, but I was also incredibly nervous. I had signed up for a full immersion program, where I would be living with an older, unmarried señora in her apartment. As Spanish major, I knew a homestay would let me practice as much Spanish as possible. I wanted the authentic Spanish experience, and I knew that boarding with a Spanish señora was the best way to do it.

Going in, I knew I would have to be flexible with my carefully-regimented lifestyle. It would be rude to barge into her house and make dietary demands. I was eager for the immersion experience, so I ignored every instinct telling me that this living arrangement could potentially be a bad idea.

My señora was lovely, but she was also the world’s worst and unhealthiest cook. Spanish food is not known as particularly healthful, with dietary staples consisting of cured meats, rich cheeses, and fried foods. Whole grains and kale are just not a thing in Spain. My señoraalso admitted she “didn’t care to eat healthy,” and looked at me like I was a maniac when I told her some of my favorite foods were raw veggies and plain, grilled chicken.

I didn’t want to offend her, so I ate her greasy empanadas and oil-soaked lettuce for five months straight. I took full advantage of Salamanca’s bustling nightlife scene, and spent many nights drinking cocktails served by the liter and scarfing down doner kebabs at four in the morning. All of this la vida loca left me with a new reality: I was more than 15 pounds heavier. 

Great, I thought, I can’t even have an eating disorder correctly.

During the semester, I kept telling myself to ignore the weight gain and just enjoy my time in Europe. Everyone gets a little pudgy when they study abroad, right? Coming back to America was a crash-landing back to reality. If gaining weight induced my anxiety, then the process of losing it drove me absolutely crazy. I had always been body-conscious, but now I was obsessive about my appearance.

As punishment, I mistreated my body in the worst ways. I starved myself, often jerking awake at 6 a.m. from hunger pangs. I experimented with bulimia, but could never even binge enough to induce vomiting. Great, I thought, I can’t even have an eating disorder correctly. For one entire summer, I cut out carbs entirely — and I mean entirely.

I gave myself migraines from messing with my blood sugar levels. If I was going out, I just wouldn’t eat, because I didn’t want to “look chubby.” Spending two hours at the gym, seven days-a-week, was standard. It only took me a few months to lose my “Spain weight,” but I kept pushing my body harder, masquerading my disordered behaviors as “physical fitness.”

I hit rock-bottom when I nearly fainted at the gym. My research meeting ran later than expected, and it was almost time to meet a friend for dinner. I was starving. I can’t eat dinner if I don’t do at least a high-intensity power lift routine, I frantically thought as I raced to the gym. The thought of only working out for only 45 minutes induced sheer panic in me. Mid-way through my work-out, I got dizzy and lightheaded from doing a set hang-cleans and almost dropped the bar on myself. I was so weak from hunger I couldn’t even clear 65lbs ― something that was once easy for me.

Earlier that day, a girl I barely even knew approached me in awe and said, “Ray, I’ve been meaning to ask you … how did you get so skinny?” At the time, I radiated from her compliment. But now, after fainting in the gym, I just felt like I was cheating myself out of health and happiness. That was my wakeup call; I soon realized that I was merely rationalizing my behavior. After doing some research, I realized that I most likely suffered from Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified (EDNOS). Also called OSFED, this diagnosis describes people with eating disorder symptoms not fitting neatly into the “anorexia” or “bulimia” categories. Inconsistent purging behaviors? Anorexia minus the extreme, dangerous weight loss? Obsession with exercise as a form of weight management? Extreme preoccupation with food and physical appearance? It was like someone had studied my behavior over the last few years and created a diagnosis just for me. Most shockingly, I learned that EDNOS is hardly talked about — even though 70 percent of people with an eating disorder fall into the EDNOS category. It is the label for the standard illness of our culture.

Finding a label for my mental health issue was the first step in overcoming it. For me, the biggest obstacle was admitting I had an eating disorder in the first place. I was so consumed with the idea that my fit, muscular body was the paragon of health that the idea that I had an eating disorder was just out of the question.

In an effort to get healthy, I started doing more research and spoke to a therapist about my issues. I made a conscious effort to be mindful of my food choices by strategically planning my meals, helping me make sure that my body is taken care of after the gym. I also started testing myself with “cheat meals,” and realized that the world wouldn’t come crashing down if I ate a slice of pizza once in a while. Within months, I started seeing more positive changes in my body. I was eating more, spending less time at the gym, and was looking healthier than ever before — probably because my body wasn’t starving anymore. More importantly, I was no longer obsessing over my body or panicking if I had to skip Leg Day. Of course, when it comes to having an eating disorder, a happy ending is never so simple. I still fight the body image issues that I’ve dealt with since middle school. But one of the best ways I now combat these negative thoughts is by focusing on what my body can do, rather than just how it looks. After all, this is the body that ran a half-marathon, loves to paddle board, and has played in countless field hockey games. I should be proud of it, and treat it kindly.

Images: Ray Gallagher

If you’re struggling with an eating disorder, call the National Eating Disorder Association hotline at 1-800-931-2237.

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[imreviewblog]

Just Because My Body Looks Healthy Doesn’t Mean My Eating Disorder Isn’t Real

This post originally appeared on Bustle.

By Ray Gallagher

I have strong, broad shoulders and ropy back muscles. On my better days, I imagine that I have the arms of Michelle Obama and the abs of Ronda Rousey. I have the thick, defined quads and calves of someone who has been playing sports for over two decades.

By most accounts, I adhere to conventional Western beauty standards. I am petite and trim. Since the dawn of the fitspo, athletic bodies are more “in” than ever, and I align with this idealized version of the female form. By all outward appearances, I am the Instagram-ready depiction of feminine health. I may look #swoleselfie ready, but what most people don’t know is that I actually suffer from an eating disorder. The truth is, eating disorders, like pretty much all mental illnesses, are notoriously difficult to diagnose. With overlapping symptoms, individual differences among patients, and subjective diagnostic criteria, it can be difficult for even seasoned therapists to diagnose an eating disorder.

For the longest time, I certainly didn’t truly recognize the extent of my issues. After all, I wasn’t rail-thin. I wasn’t fainting in the hallway like Miranda from that one episode of Lizzie McGuire. I certainly wasn’t ready to be laid up in a hospital bed and hooked up to a feeding tube, like that one girl from freshman year homeroom, so I couldn’t possibly have an eating disorder, right?

I was able to ignore some of the more subtle indicators that I had an eating disorder primarily because I didn’t experience too many of the very common ones. It’s the type of logic that alcoholics and drug addicts employ: if I’m not at rock-bottom, it can’t be that bad.

Like many pre-teen girls in America, my body image issues began when I hit puberty in middle school. It was easy being the cute, scrawny kid with knobby knees, adorable bangs, and a wiry torso. It wasn’t so easy being the pudgy sixth grader with awful eyebrows. But with all of the awful changes that middle school brought, it did introduce me to the one thing that changed my life: field hockey.

My eighth grade best friend encouraged me to try out for the team. “It’s not that hard, and you probably won’t get cut since you’re an eighth grader,” she told me. I made the team, and thus began my career as a varsity athlete.

Now playing a varsity sport, I noticed that I lost a little fat and gained some muscle. My body composition changed with each field hockey season, accompanied by summers spent running on the boardwalk and spring semesters filled with lacrosse. It seemed obvious, but it was the first time I made the connection that sports and fitness could mean having a conventionally attractive body.

I managed to make it through high school without having any eating disorder drama. I watched what I snacked on, I was busy with sports, and my mom cooked healthy dinners. What did I have to worry about?

Everything changed when I got to college. I wasn’t used to the freedom of an all-you-can-eat self-serve dining hall. Field hockey practice was a lot different than at the high school level, with less in-season focus on conditioning and more focus on developing technical skills. Coupled with normal late-adolescence weight gain, I began obsessing over my appearance. I would check my stomach in the mirror constantly, and assess my face for any double-chins that may have been lurking. It was also around this time that I started experimenting with diet restriction. I pretended to be a vegetarian for six weeks, but I really just wanted to see if cutting out meat would make me any skinnier. Spoiler: it didn’t.

Things didn’t truly get out of control for me until my spring semester junior year, when I studied abroad in Spain. I was excited for the program, but I was also incredibly nervous. I had signed up for a full immersion program, where I would be living with an older, unmarried señora in her apartment. As Spanish major, I knew a homestay would let me practice as much Spanish as possible. I wanted the authentic Spanish experience, and I knew that boarding with a Spanish señora was the best way to do it.

Going in, I knew I would have to be flexible with my carefully-regimented lifestyle. It would be rude to barge into her house and make dietary demands. I was eager for the immersion experience, so I ignored every instinct telling me that this living arrangement could potentially be a bad idea.

My señora was lovely, but she was also the world’s worst and unhealthiest cook. Spanish food is not known as particularly healthful, with dietary staples consisting of cured meats, rich cheeses, and fried foods. Whole grains and kale are just not a thing in Spain. My señoraalso admitted she “didn’t care to eat healthy,” and looked at me like I was a maniac when I told her some of my favorite foods were raw veggies and plain, grilled chicken.

I didn’t want to offend her, so I ate her greasy empanadas and oil-soaked lettuce for five months straight. I took full advantage of Salamanca’s bustling nightlife scene, and spent many nights drinking cocktails served by the liter and scarfing down doner kebabs at four in the morning. All of this la vida loca left me with a new reality: I was more than 15 pounds heavier. 

Great, I thought, I can’t even have an eating disorder correctly.

During the semester, I kept telling myself to ignore the weight gain and just enjoy my time in Europe. Everyone gets a little pudgy when they study abroad, right? Coming back to America was a crash-landing back to reality. If gaining weight induced my anxiety, then the process of losing it drove me absolutely crazy. I had always been body-conscious, but now I was obsessive about my appearance.

As punishment, I mistreated my body in the worst ways. I starved myself, often jerking awake at 6 a.m. from hunger pangs. I experimented with bulimia, but could never even binge enough to induce vomiting. Great, I thought, I can’t even have an eating disorder correctly. For one entire summer, I cut out carbs entirely — and I mean entirely.

I gave myself migraines from messing with my blood sugar levels. If I was going out, I just wouldn’t eat, because I didn’t want to “look chubby.” Spending two hours at the gym, seven days-a-week, was standard. It only took me a few months to lose my “Spain weight,” but I kept pushing my body harder, masquerading my disordered behaviors as “physical fitness.”

I hit rock-bottom when I nearly fainted at the gym. My research meeting ran later than expected, and it was almost time to meet a friend for dinner. I was starving. I can’t eat dinner if I don’t do at least a high-intensity power lift routine, I frantically thought as I raced to the gym. The thought of only working out for only 45 minutes induced sheer panic in me. Mid-way through my work-out, I got dizzy and lightheaded from doing a set hang-cleans and almost dropped the bar on myself. I was so weak from hunger I couldn’t even clear 65lbs ― something that was once easy for me.

Earlier that day, a girl I barely even knew approached me in awe and said, “Ray, I’ve been meaning to ask you … how did you get so skinny?” At the time, I radiated from her compliment. But now, after fainting in the gym, I just felt like I was cheating myself out of health and happiness. That was my wakeup call; I soon realized that I was merely rationalizing my behavior. After doing some research, I realized that I most likely suffered from Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified (EDNOS). Also called OSFED, this diagnosis describes people with eating disorder symptoms not fitting neatly into the “anorexia” or “bulimia” categories. Inconsistent purging behaviors? Anorexia minus the extreme, dangerous weight loss? Obsession with exercise as a form of weight management? Extreme preoccupation with food and physical appearance? It was like someone had studied my behavior over the last few years and created a diagnosis just for me. Most shockingly, I learned that EDNOS is hardly talked about — even though 70 percent of people with an eating disorder fall into the EDNOS category. It is the label for the standard illness of our culture.

Finding a label for my mental health issue was the first step in overcoming it. For me, the biggest obstacle was admitting I had an eating disorder in the first place. I was so consumed with the idea that my fit, muscular body was the paragon of health that the idea that I had an eating disorder was just out of the question.

In an effort to get healthy, I started doing more research and spoke to a therapist about my issues. I made a conscious effort to be mindful of my food choices by strategically planning my meals, helping me make sure that my body is taken care of after the gym. I also started testing myself with “cheat meals,” and realized that the world wouldn’t come crashing down if I ate a slice of pizza once in a while. Within months, I started seeing more positive changes in my body. I was eating more, spending less time at the gym, and was looking healthier than ever before — probably because my body wasn’t starving anymore. More importantly, I was no longer obsessing over my body or panicking if I had to skip Leg Day. Of course, when it comes to having an eating disorder, a happy ending is never so simple. I still fight the body image issues that I’ve dealt with since middle school. But one of the best ways I now combat these negative thoughts is by focusing on what my body can do, rather than just how it looks. After all, this is the body that ran a half-marathon, loves to paddle board, and has played in countless field hockey games. I should be proud of it, and treat it kindly.

Images: Ray Gallagher

If you’re struggling with an eating disorder, call the National Eating Disorder Association hotline at 1-800-931-2237.

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