Real Men Don't Give A Fuck!

I was looking at a picture of myself the other day...probably almost two years old. As I looked at it, I saw no difference in my body back then than it is now. Back then I was probably in the 150-160lb range (which is a lot for my 5' frame) and now I am sitting at a relatively healthy 123lbs. But in my eyes, I look exactly the same but since then, I feel differently about myself. This made me start thinking about my relationship with the ex and how when we fooled around, my shirt was always left on. I never made an effort to take it off, he certainly made no effort to take it off for me. He never put his hands anywhere near my stomach. Always skipping from my breasts to my crotch; always avoiding the dreaded tum-tum. I thought I deserved this; I didn't like looking at me completely naked, why would he? After we broke up, I did feel a little better about myself but I still saw fat when I looked in the mirror. I guess it just didn't really matter at that point though.

The night with DB was a lot of firsts for me. He crashed at my house, sharing my bed with me because it was no big deal. I really did not think anything would happen, I was decked out in valor pj pants and an old ratty shirt. I also clutched my teddy bear, Pola, as I normally would. Clearly, if I thought there would be some sexy time, I would have made an effort to wear cute pj's and leave Pola on the floor for the night. So, you can imagine that I was more than a little shocked when a half an hour later, I woke up to the front of his body pressed against my back, hands making there way to my ta-tas. I quickly rolled over to face him. "Are you sure?" I asked. "Ya, are you?" Before I could answer he leaned forward pressing his lips to mine with a strong kiss, filled with the urgency and pressure that I was feeling as well. Quickly stripped of his clothes, he went for mine. Pants, off. He started to pull my shirt over my head and I grabbed hold of the bottom, tugging it back down. He gave me this look, sighed and said "Fuck off...seriously, c'mon now." Shirt, off. It was amazing to me how comfortable I felt with his hands exploring the top part of my body. He didn't skip from the girls right to my unders, his hands moved across my tummy without a grimace or a flinch. Maybe it was all in my mind but my fat (and his major lack of fat that would usually be extremely unattractive to me) didn't bother either of us. But it's not so difficult to feel comfortable when you're already so comfortable with a person and there's no feelings involved. I really did not care what he thought of me.

The same sort of feelings were involved with the others. It just didn't matter to me if they thought I could stand to lose a few pounds...it didn't ever seem to matter to them either. Never was my stomach the focus of the night, but it was never shunned from like with the ex. But then there was G. I can honestly say, I don't remember much of the first night and the next day was more filled with sheer embarrassment of how I may have behaved, drunk as I was, than with concern of what he thought about my body. In the days that followed, I came to a huge realization. When we'd sit or lay together, his hands always rested or caressed my flabby little belly...almost as if he liked it. *GASP* When it was time for the sexy shenanigans to ensue, he took his sweet time caressing the little pooch. WTF?! Never in my life, had I ever thought that not only could a man not care, but actually find it sexy...but he did. I did my very best to put all insecurities aside and allow him to revel in all my belly-glory. And so I've now come to this conclusion, real men just don't give a fuck if you've got some belly fat. They just don't care...and some even like it. From now on, shirt always off!