The "NO-More" Suites

When I’m on food restriction, food is all I can think about. Now I’m counting calories, sadly chomping vegetables I do not like, and guarding my stash of “allowable food items” like a lioness hoards her kill.

“Back off!” I hiss; yellow eyes burning.

My stomach was making angry-volcano rumblings last night. “Feed me!” it roared, as Audrey II in “Little Shop of Horrors.” I sat straight up in bed —I can have air popcorn! The moment the dry, fluffy, puffy stuff came tumbling out of the popper, I grabbed a fist -full and pushed it in my mouth frantically. And I bit own my finger…hard.

As my finger throbbed, and I felt faint from the pain—a couple of thoughts stood out:

• That I have the jaws of a Kodiak bear
• Air popcorn tastes like electricity

There really should be a sleep-over camp for people just starting a diet.  A get-away from temptation.  Or maybe a hotel called “The ‘No-More’ Suites” :

• There, hungry, grumpy people could be housed until Day 4, when the cravings subside and we stop clenching our fists, rocking back and forth murmuring, “French Bread” and chewing in our sleep. 
• There, T.V. stations would be censored to exclude all mention of ice cream, hot-wings and juicy, gigantic burgers. Rooms would have thick walls to drown out the wails of guests who accidentally received a free pizza coupon under their door.

Once I check out of “The 'No-More' Suites”, I should able to control my mouth and eat properly without all those cravings. 

And my family can stop locking their doors at night.

Unless, of course, there’s a Kentucky Fried Chicken/Taco Bell combo mini-restaurant around the corner from the hotel…

Oh, that sounds so good.