Half-day at work today! Yippety skippety. Also, fireworks tonight. Now I'm putting on my positive-attitude hat, trying to work up some enthusiasm . . . it's a club event. It should be fun, right? Better than the last event I attended? The one that attracted so many, um, interesting people from the suburbs? So I'm going to the gym after work, and then I'll pop into my favorite stores to see if I can find something I'd like to wear tonight, and then I'll still have plenty of time to get ready, and then I'll go and have fun.

My therapist told me something that I need to remember: I need to stop the black-and-white thinking, pronto. Somehow I have become convinced that if I'm not perfect, then I'm absolutely disgusting . . . when in fact I'm merely somewhere in the middle, somewhere around average. Average is okay, right? Average weight, average height, average looks? Surely thinking I'm average has got to be better than thinking I'm crummy.

Someone recently advised me to look at myself in the mirror every morning and say, "You are beautiful." I can't do that yet. I might be able to say, "You're fine."

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