I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to kill anyone so much in my ENTIRE life

Guests and friends. This was posted on the essentiallyemily.com site and then wound up on many other sites. I don’t think I have to say anything else other than I want to take my fat little body, flash my scars at her and punch her right in the nose. As disgusting an analysis as this is I can’t wish cancer on her because I can’t seem to wish it on anyone. What I do wish for her is some insight.

Her post reads below
No, no eating disorder. But I do have a battle to fight every day I wake up, so sometimes I give off that impression. But guys, I’m at a normal, healthy weight. And If I don’t watch every piece of food (and drink) that goes into my mouth and keep up a vigorous cardio and strength training regimen, I will get fat again. This might sound controversial, but sometimes I do feel like a cancer survivor in the sense that every morning when I wake up, I know that there are forces fighting my body to get back to a state of existence that, for my purposes, might as well be death.

But, yes, confession: I did go a little too far down the scale during my NBC months when I was working at 30 Rock as an overnight/early AM production assistant. The nature of my job made it too easy: I was on my feet from the moment I came in until the moment I left. It was great, actually.

But…confession: I did get a little carried away with my weight during those months. I was never supposed to be on the decline, still, by the time I started that job at NBC. and yet I was such a nut that I was bringing running clothes a few times a week and jogging my ass home (yes up 6th ave and through the park) just to make sure I wasn’t getting fat.

My parents and doctors finally snapped and started insisting on weekly ‘weigh-ins’. I agreed to this weight-monitoring because I think that I was scared at some level. I knew something was wrong and that somewhere deep down, a voice was telling me to keep going down the scale because no matter how many times I stood before a mirror at 120, 119, 118, 117, etc. etc. etc. You see, I still saw 201, 202, 203, climbing, climbing, climbing. It was like this ghost kept haunting me. So I wanted to keep going. going going going gone? I was addicted to the decline.

As for how I got so thin? I wish I had a more compelling story for you (finding Christ, the Star Jones/lat band method, being anorexic), but the truth about my weight loss is that I got home from college, hated how fat I was and resolved to get my proverbial shit together. And yes, I had some help from doctors (one in particular), trainers, nutritionists, and perhaps most importantly, I began intensive psychotherapy and figured out how/why I abused my body with food during adolescence.

Now having said that, there are a million tips I can give you (and I will), but my weight loss involved a tremendous amount of self-discipline and still does.

Try, for example, no alcohol for the first 6 months? With the exception of a few special occasions, I took it upon myself to stop drinking entirely because I knew that in order to optimize my metabolism, it was something I needed and wanted to do for myself.

She has since posted a reply
Apology/Explanation
by Misfit

In an attempt to be more forthcoming with the people commenting on my site, I’ve taken some heat for a remark I made. To be clear, all of you are right to call me out for the fact that I compared myself to a cancer survivor. That was outrageous, pure and simple. There were much better analogies and/or ways for me to describe the ’survivor’ mentality in which I exist.

To be clear, I’ve never been faced with my own mortality and I do not dare put myself in the shoes of someone with cancer or any other terminal illness. All I can say, again, to defend what I wrote is that the only aspect of ‘cancer survivor’ I was referring to is lifestyle. I know a lot of people who’ve overcome serious illnesses and all of them take better care of themselves today than they did before being diagnosed. A new chance at life makes you love your body and respect it in ways, I think, that you’re not capable of.

I did beat a disease and I beat it well. But no, it was not cancer. Not by a long shot. I know the pain of cancer. So many people in my life, friends’ lives, friends of friends of friends. Please believe me. And everyone was right to call me out on it. Sorry if I offended anyone.

Emily

You may of course respond as you see fit. I don’t think she understands at all what she is saying and wonder if this may have been a publicity stunt but there it is.

I’m sick, or am I?

So Thursday I started feeling kind of crummy. You know the feeling. Scratchy throat, starting to get sore, just feeling kind of funky. Well yesterday I went to have lunch with a friend. I didn’t really want to because I was getting progressively funkier but she’s 6 cm dilated with her second child so there’s really not time to lose. I had left a message with my regular doctor a few hours earlier and just as I was heading out of lunch and back to work they called, could I come by?

Of course! I hate getting sick over the weekend and either suffering through or using the Urgent Care. So I went by and wouldn’t you know; fever of 101degrees, pharyngitis and an ear infection. Now I knew I had some throat pain so that wasn’t a surprise. For me the big shocker was that I had a fever. I’m so used to feeling hotter than everyone else in the world that I just assumed It was me.

Now, here’s the rub. I looked at the calendar today and realized that it is two years since my diagnosis. Almost to the day. So it got me thinking…as I sick or is there something psychosomatic going on with my body? I can’t figure out how I could think myself into a fever but who knows? Do you? Comments as always are welcome.