My Body Thinks It's Dying, Which Makes My Mind Irritable.

I ate two salads today. Two! One had grilled chicken and grilled portobello--portobella? which is it?--'shrooms, and it was delicious. I ate steel cut oats made overnight in a crockpot, so that they were ready when I woke up famished. They were also delish. I ate whole wheat pasta shells with nonfat tomato sauce. I had less milk than I was supposed to, but I'm not a milk drinker. I ate 2 oz of pineapple, the better part of an apple, and even a quarter oz of Schaffen Berger. I learned about the minefield that is salad dressing and found a really, really great lemon tarragon one that adds minimal calories. I indulged in one of the world-famous rolls at the restaurant where I had my first salad of the day.

And my body is screaming: EAT MORE! THAT WAS NOT ENOUGH CALORIES!, but alas, I am out of points for the day. However, I may yet snack on the zero-point dubious treat of celery dunked in salsa. We shall see.

I comfort myself that my blood is rich in antioxidants thanks to all the veggies.

I must return my irritable self to sipping my soothing tea. A group of people, myself included, are trying to arrange a carpool to an event in Boston this week. One woman wrote that she thought we could leave at 5:30 rather than 5. I was about to write back, YOU ARE FUCKING BONKERS AND IF EVERYONE DECIDES TO LEAVE AT HALF-PAST I'LL GO BY MY DAMN SELF BECAUSE WE'LL SIT IN RUSH-HOUR TRAFFIC FOR THE REST OF TIME AND NEVER GET ANYWHERE NEAR OUR EVENT, but then I realized that maybe I'd lost a wee bit of perspective because I'm adjusting to eating fewer calories. And it's dark. And winter.

Thus: tea.