During my years in Chicago, I developed quite a large personal space.
I found, about a year into my four year stint as a Chicagoan, that just the sight of a couple hugging could give me the heebie-jeebies. It made me shudder.
I worked in a very small office with a bunch of college students. They were carefree and fun. Except this one guy, who tended to stand behind my chair, while I was sitting in said chair, and get so close to me that I could feel that he was male.
Ugh!!! It was awful, this revulsion to touch.
Except that it was okay too. I lived alone. I cherished my space. I could stand on a bus and be fine as long as no one was actually touching me. They could be a quarter of an inch from touching me, but as long as that bit of air separated us, I was good.
It got to the point where just hearing the words 'cuddle' and 'snuggle' made me shudder. I detested those words. They conjured up such things as shared personal space and touching and, ugh, it was just horrible to contemplate.
So how is it that I managed to give birth to the cuddliest kids EVER?
Seriously, even at four years old, Olivia will snuggle a person to within an inch of their life.
And I don't mind. Not much anyway.
Both A and O are quite grabby and jabby and prone to jumping full-body onto me and it's okay.
And, having had two children with him, it's obvious that I don't have touch issues with Tom, right? I know, ewww, we're married and all but...whatever.
I don't know when I moved past that aversion to touch. It was before I had children, obviously. But I can look back and remember that feeling of "Ugh, too close, too close!" But I don't feel that anymore.
Good thing, since more often than not, Olivia, will state, "I need to hug your boobie."
Please note, this child never nursed, I do not understand her obsession with my chest, except, perhaps, using her words, that it's all warm and squishy. Whew, good thing I overcame my teenage angst about my chest, which is probably a post for another time.