I've always wondered what it would feel like to have a thigh gap. I often think of this when I meander into the wrong store, suddenly aware that the only thing they sell in my size are the purses. I look at the ladies whose legs are the same circumference as PVC pipes, and I find myself so intrigued. I mean, does the wind just tunnel through? And is it hard to stay warm in the winter?
For most of my life, if you asked me what I hated most about my body, I would undoubtedly say my thighs. No matter how much weight I lost, they were still destined to meet in the middle.
Right now, as I sit here pregnant with my second child, I couldn't give a damn about my stupid thighs. I would deal with all the chafing in the world if I could fix what's going on inside my fractured mind. Move aside, thunder thighs---my brain is now my least favorite body part.
People often ask me why I waited almost six years between children. Were there fertility issues? Was Amelia that difficult? Do I not put out?
When I discovered I was pregnant in 2011, I made the difficult decision to go off my Prozac for the health of my unborn baby. For thirteen years I relied on medication and cognitive behavioral therapy to cope with the debilitating anxiety and intrusive thoughts that go along with OCD, and in a moment's notice, I quit cold-turkey.
I know I must sound a touch dramatic when I say that OCD is a thief of joy, but it truly robbed me of all peace during my first pregnancy. I was afraid of anyone and anything---afraid I would contract a placenta-crossing disease; afraid I had poisoned the baby after licking an envelope. I know that at times my fears were almost laughable, but OCD took me to the darkest abyss, and it's taken me this long to find the courage to do it all over again.
After much research and discussion with my doctor, I made the decision to remain on Prozac this pregnancy, albeit a much lower dose. It was actually one of the easiest decisions I've ever made. Before all you sanctimonious mothers chime in and tell me all the risks involved, please know that I do more research than a tenured scientist. I'm very well informed.
Now here I am, halfway through my second pregnancy, and once again, I'm slipping. While Prozac has taken off a bit of the edge, OCD and pregnancy hormones are still like water and oil---like Britney and Justin. I shook a man's hand the other day and then was plagued with the fear that he may have had drug residue on it. I spent the rest of the day researching skin absorption rates and checking my blood pressure for fluctuations. How can something be so irrational and yet make so much sense to me?
By the grace of God, I'm going to get through this---I did once before and I will once again. I keep telling myself that 'this, too, shall pass.' I've even considered getting that motto tattooed on my body, but, you know---hepatitis and flesh-eating bacteria and all that.
I'm trying so hard to see the light at the end of this four and a half month remaining tunnel---where there will be a beautiful newborn baby girl and all the Prozac my little brain desires. And maybe then I can finally get back to hating my thighs.