A hilarious first-person account of life as a hypochondriac, as well as a look at the condition's history and broader cultural context. The good news is that Jennifer Traig does not have lupus, multiple sclerosis, Huntington's disease, Crohn's disease, or muscular dystrophy. What she does have is hypochondria. Traig's inquiry into her ailment is not only a personal account but also a literary tour of hypochondria, past and present: the implied hypochondria of the Talmud, the flatulence-obsessed eighteenth century, and the malady's current unfortunate lack of a celebrity spokesperson. At the same time, Traig provides an intimate look at the complement of minor conditions that have concealed her essential health and driven her self-diagnosis: the eczema, the shaky hands, and, worst of all, the bad hair. To her surprise, she ends her journey more knowledgeable than when she started out, a little less neurotic, and--one might say--healthier.--From publisher description.