This summer has been rough. Secluded from nearly everyone I know, love and trust, I allowed myself in true Emily fashion, to secome to a selfish and sedentary life style. Living bedtime to bedtime I forgot what hard work and comitment meant. I forgot that I wasn't going to live in my parents living room for the rest of my life. I forgot that my choices have consequences. This summer has been nothing more than a spiral downwards.

If you would like to say "I told you so" or give me advice on what my obvious next step should be, please take a number.

Since I'm lucky if one person reads this blog, I don't really feel the need to limit myself in anyway. Especially not in my current state.

This summer I have gained 15 lbs. 15 extremely noticeable pounds. This summer I read books, I watched old episodes of West Wing, I stopped going to church, and I developed a grotesque craving for sweets. And I went to bed every night disgusted with myself. There was a time when I could get dressed and feel somewhat positive about my appearence. Today I literally cry everytime i look in a mirror that reveals more than just my face. I live daily now with humiliation.

Humiliation.

In SSA's production of Sweeney Todd, running from one side of the stage to the other while singing high G's caused my to lose my breath, nearly causing me to injure my vocal chords.

Now, 5 days before I return to my home, I am filled with fear. What if you suddenly find me as gross as I find myself? What if, despite your best efforts, you no longer find my attractive? What if my joy in seeing you is crushed by the look of disappointment on your face when you see me?

My mind wanders to dark places and I never want to move again. I know, more than I've ever known anything before that unless I get my act together these things will happen:

I will never have a successful career in music theatre.

I will develop diabetes within the next 10 years.

I stand an 80% chance of having another major knee surgery.

I will continue to gain weight.

I know what to do, but believe it or not...you telling me, doesnt help. And the more you patronize me, the less I want to get out of bed in the morning. Please stop telling me what I need to do. Please stop sighing when I confide in you. Please understand that my frustration is not aimed at you...understand that I feel embarrassed and humiliated everytime I need a dress, but all the ones I own are too small.

Please help me. I need help.

Sry if I projected onto you Reader. Most of this isnt literally about "you." But thanks for reading.

-Em

P.S. Its 2am and i'm really upset, so please excuse all of the many grammatical errors. Thanks.