I read Better Homes & Gardens on the bench outside her office. I know this issue by heart because it's the only magazine she's had in her waiting room for six years. It used to be informative, now it's retro.

We talk about how I am depressed and annoyed and I'm scared I'll scream at someone at an interview, if I ever get one. I'm scared I'll be so mean to Tano that I'll hate him for putting up with me and I'll leave. Or at least start talking about leaving. I say I am scared that the depression will never end. The therapist reminds me that the depression always ends.

I say, "I should write down every feeling I have then I would save money on therapy by referring back to my notes."

The therapist says, "You could try that."

I tell her I'm scared that I'm fat. And by the way, I threw up twice. She does not need to know the gory details of how I ate the heavy foods first so they would push up the light foods. She has already acknowledged my expertise.

For ten minutes we discuss how I have to binge because I feel like I have control over my food when I throw up and I need control. It's scary to not have control over my depression.

We discuss more.

Do I feel good throwing up?

Does controlling food help my depression?

Is PMS ever endless?

No. Yes.

Yes.

Yes. No.

It takes me so long to prepare for bed that Tano comes home in the middle of my toner. He is drunk from the party where Sony gave everyone bonuses for working weekends to launch multi-player Wheel of Fortune online. "I'm not drunk," Tano says, and he kisses my neck and my back.

I say, "Congratulations on a good launch. Congratulations on the bonus."

Kiss. Kiss. Kiss.

I say, "I'm not kissy."

"Why not?"

"I told you, I'm depressed. I feel like I have to slit my wrists before you recognize depression."

"I'm sorry you're depressed. I thought you weren't depressed because there is three new beds of flowers in the garden."

"That was when I was not depressed. Now I am depressed. Fix the sheets before I get into bed, because if you fix them when I'm already in bed, I'll be annoyed."

He starts fixing. He comes back into the bathroom and hugs me. I say, "Why do you hug me when I'm so unhappy?"

"Because I thought maybe that's when a hug is nicest. So you know I love you."

"Did the therapist tell you to do that?"

"What? Yeah. And she told me to fix the sheets."

I get into bed with cream on my cuticles and Baggies on my hands. Since I'm not touching Tano I should make use of the night to fix my rough edges.

He says, "Baggies? Again?"