Day 2. No deaths yet.

In my ongoing quest to not die at 50, I find myself on my second day of equating food to points (surreal) and trying to think of points as golf swings. To be fair, it's definitely helping me think more about the various fuels I ingest. To be completely frakking unfair, I'm already getting tired of mainlining applesauce when I'm hungry and have already swung par. I keep eying the Aciphex bottle I keep on my desk (acid reflux/ulcer med) and thinking, "Yeah, I don't need you anymore, bitch. Howya like me now." It helps sometimes. I note with interest that anger is the primary outlet of choice for my fud blueballs.  First world problems.