Counting

I think some fucker stole my razor blades during therapy today. Alright, I get it, you don't have to tell me what a stupid idea it was to bring them there in the first place. The thing is, I hid them in a compact powder box, which I thought was a very clever place to put them in. Obviously I was wrong. I might hade dropped them though, but that's highly unlikely. From this moment on, I will fucking wear them in my boxers. That is the one place they won't rifle through without me noticing it. I'm gonna kill the fucker who took them, or at least make her or him pay for this. These days, no one's fucking with me without consequences! This I vow.

So... I started counting calories today, and to my outmost surprise my dinner consisted of only 207,75 calories. But that was all I could get down, before I got full. This was very exhausting: cooking my own food, weighting everything and reading all the labels, adding, deviding, subracting and at the same time making sure my food didn't get burned. But once I know the drill, it will probably get easier. If I'm gonna do this, I really have to learn how to cook. This is insane...