There's good news, and not so good news. We'll start with the good.
I finally had a little make out last night. GOT SOME! :) A good friend of mine that I've known for 5 or so years is in town for the X games and he called me a few days ago to see if we could meet up. He wanted to get sushi. He always calls me when he's here. We went down to the beach and cuddled on one of the lifeguard lookout stands while watching the waves and the last minute stragglers looking for treasures, until beach patrol came and kicked everyone off the beach. WE didn't get kicked off the beach because, well, I know how to hide from beach patrol. :) Needless to say, it resulted with affectionate kisses by the end of the night.
Now, the bad news? I couldn't fully enjoy the kisses. Why? Because I was overly concerned with him touching my fat. He kept reaching around me and putting his hands inside my shirt, right on my love handles. I was cringing the whole time. At one point I couldn't help it, I finally had to point out that I didn't like it that much, that it was making me self conscious. To which he replied, "Why? It's just a love handle..."
Inside I died a little.
I was humiliated. JUST a love handle? Do you know what a love handle is pal? FAT. Thank you for pointing out it's JUST a love handle. It's MY love handle, and you keep touching it, and now I can't relax.
Sigh. It's a vicious, VICIOUS cycle.