Oh, that shiny soft cheese danish called so alluringly through the glass case

But I managed to order only a tall coffee with a dash of skim milk.  It was a tough struggle, especially since it had been hours since I'd had my oatmeal with pecans and raisins, and I was hungry.  But as I stared longingly at it (and the cashier waited patiently for me to say something), I remembered how I looked in the mirror at Zumba, my tank top doing nothing to hide the jiggling flaps of flab under my arms as I shimmied.  I imagined that beautiful danish hanging under my arms.  That visualization killed my appetite just long enough for me to utter, "That will be all, thanks."

Two hours later though, Indian cuisine looked just fine hanging from my appendages, and I ate my fill.