At 24 I found myself in a very dark place. Shortly after the new year my five-year engagement finally broke down when my 19 year old friend moved in with me and my ex, and they became attracted to each other. I moved in with my parents briefly until I could find an affordable apartment, and then I started dating immediately. Crushed by the guilt of not being able to make my former relationship workout, despite giving up so many of my hopes and dreams, I turned to sex to cope. I felt like I had lost my youth. I called male friends of mine with whom I had lost contact because my ex wouldn't allow me to spend time with them, and one of them I started casually dating. I started an online profile with a dating website and found a few interesting people spend time with. Any time spent alone was a time for drinking away my sorrows and insecurities. It was during that period that I met my current boyfriend, and got pregnant only a few months into our "exclusive" relationship. I was 25.

We debated on whether or not we could make things work. We met at a free clinic to get an ultrasound and confirm that I was, indeed roughly two months pregnant. Despite the circumstances and my overwhelming doubts about having a child with this person, when I saw my baby's heartbeat for the first time...I fell in love. My only goal then became to overcome whatever barriers would keep me from meeting the person who was growing inside of me. I didn't care that I wasn't married, or that my boyfriend was the biggest flake I had ever met, I was determined to make him the father my baby deserved, and to become the mother I knew I could be.

After weeks of tolerating my boyfriend's obvious avoidance of responsibility, we finally went to an abortion clinic together and it was there that we both decided to take our chances with our new relationship and raise a baby together. Things were pretty good between us after that, other than my lingering doubts about his commitment, and my constant worries about what kind of mother I would and could be. Months passed as we moved in together and started slowly preparing for the baby. I fought with my mother constantly, who adamantly swore that my boyfriend would never stand by me and that I was doomed to be a single mother, struggling to get by. I wouldn't hear it. My mother and I had a screaming match after Thanksgiving dinner because my boyfriend was out of town, thereby proving to her that he was not fit to be a father and not good enough for me. After an entire lifetime of hearing her negative remarks ("you'll never finish that", "you can't do it", "it will never work out", etc) I had finally had enough of her projecting her self doubt onto me, and I stood by my decision to have my baby, and to make my boyfriend be a good father at all cost. I had faith that he would fall in love, as I had already done, once the baby was born.

For Christmas that year we went out of state to see his family. I would have liked to say that my mother's words didn't impact my judgment, or cause further insecurities, but they did. Meeting his family was humbling and humiliating. I knew what they were thinking. I was a college dropout, pregnant and unmarried, and not the prettiest girl that my boyfriend had ever been with. His ex girlfriend looked like a model: tall, slender, good bone structure, and living a glamorous life in LA as a portrait artist. Indeed, if I hadn't met his ex in person I would hate her, but she was one of the kindest and most sincere people I had ever talked to, and I conceded that if circumstances were different, her and I would have been best friends. I tried to hold my head up high as I watched my boyfriend's youngest sister graduate from college at the age of 20. She had a graduation party with her girlfriends, one that I was forced to attend, and because I was pregnant, forced to listen to through the door of the room I was trying to sleep in. I was tired, cranky, hormonal, and (obviously) not able to stay up late drinking with the rest of the crowd. To my dismay, my boyfriend chose to stay up and drink to mingle with the barely legal crowd and come to bed smelling like beer.

The vacation only got better from there. We took our bags and car to another area where his step father lived. When we arrived, the house was full of people and the drinks were flowing. As I struggled to carry my bags, with swollen feet and a bloated belly, I caught sight of the most beautiful girl in the room. Her hair was curly in the most adorable way. Her lips were full and her teeth straight and pearly white. Her eyes were a translucent hazel color that could be seen from across the room. She was young, and tall, with curvaceous hips and a tiny waist. She didn't even notice me, the dumpy pregnant girl that hadn't showered in days due to cross country traveling. As my boyfriend and I left the house to pick up the last of our bags, he told me something that hurt so badly that I still wake up thinking about it. "That girl in there...I slept with her". I was devastated. How was I ever going to compete with these gorgeous girls that he somehow managed to sleep with? How many other supermodels had he previous penetrated, and how could he have possibly wanted to date an ugly, stupid girl like me when he could obviously sleep with anyone he wanted to? I was so hormonal, and tired, and sad, that I exploded right there in the driveway. How could he sleep with her! How dare he tell me about it! What was he think?! Didn't he know how that made me feel? Didn't he realize how horrible I already felt being unmarried, pregnant, fat (every pregnant woman feels fat), and a recent college dropout? I was so angry at him, and so intimidated by this beautiful girl who was currently frolicking merrily about the house on her young, tiny legs, that I left to see my family shortly that conversation.

Now, two years later, I still find myself thinking about that girl. I sometimes imagine the two of them having sex. It doesn't help that she is the best friend of my boyfriend's youngest sister, and that I have had to see many pictures of her and hear her name over and over again. Shortly after giving birth to my son, and being unable to lose 20 of the 35 pounds I gained during pregnancy, my boyfriend's youngest sister thought it would be a good idea to reminisce about their family vacation on a houseboat that took place about two years before my boyfriend and I started dating. It turns out, that is where my boyfriend and this girl hooked up. Of all the videos she could have chosen to put on for everyone to watch and "remember the good times", she put on a video of my boyfriend and this girl flirting very overtly. She was drunk and giggly, running around in a skimpy bikini that would have revealed nipples if she sneezed wrong, and he was handing her another drink. Wonderful.

Since then, my boyfriend and I have had several discussions about the whole incident. I have drunkenly (after I finished breastfeeding) inquired about whether or not she was better in bed, and admitted to him that I don't feel like I'm pretty enough for him. His response is always the same: that before I knew about his past I was confident in my looks and personality and did not feel inferior, so I shouldn't feel that way now. He says that, although I may not be on the cover or a magazine or fit nicely into the narrowly defined standard of beauty, he thinks I'm very attractive and wishes that I didn't have such low self esteem...and he is right. All of that is very reasonable, and I am making a big deal out of nothing.

And yet, I still think about the two of them having sex. I don't really know why, but I have this big issue with it. I feel like she is the physical manifestation of everything I have always wanted to be, but never could. I know that I shouldn't feel the need to compete, because we are different people with different strengths and qualities that make us attractive, but I can't shake the feeling that she is, in every way, better than me.

Has anyone else dealt with something similar to this? Any advice for coping? I am working out and trying to eat smaller, healthier meals. I am trying to back in touch with my artistic skills and things I used to do for enjoyment (like dancing, singing, and socializing), but I feel like I'm just running on a proverbial mouse wheel - attempting to better myself but going nowhere.

Sorry for the lengthy post. I felt like the back story was necessary to really describe how I feel and why. I know there is no one who can give me a "solution", but it would be nice if someone out there could give me some comfort in knowing that I am not the only one who struggles with these feelings, and maybe give me some insight on how you are overcoming them.

Thanks for reading.