Sweet by Emmy Laybourne Page A

don’t want a little muffin?” she asked me at breakfast. They were giving each passenger two little Solu muffins each.
    â€œI know it works fast, but I don’t think it’ll help me lose weight between now and ten a.m!” I said.
    â€œYou never know!” she said with a grin.
    It’s nice to see her so happy.
    I wave off the muffins. Really, I’m just not into it.
    I do have about ten packets of Solu squirreled away in an unused airsickness baggie.
    (Just in case I overcome my morals and have the chance to sell them in Cozumel.)
    I put them in the safe in our room. I didn’t want Viv to see them. I think she’s still a little mad that I’m not taking them.
    And it was fun to program the safe.
    I made “BOOTS” the code.
    They’ve made a treatment room in the (world-class) spa into a weigh-in center.
    It reminds me of a fancy version of Weight Watchers. (Viv made me go with her for two months in seventh grade.)
    The same scale from the gangplank is set up here.
    â€œGood morning!” A sixty-something woman with maroon-colored hair greets us. (Hello, Clairol.) “How are y’all feeling today?”
    â€œI feel fantastic!” Viv gushes. “I’m so happy!”
    â€œThat’s what we like to hear!”
    Maroon-Hair Lady swipes Vivika’s ID card and then motions for Viv to step onto the scale.
    â€œOh my goodness. Can you step off and step on again, dear?”
    Viv darts a questioning look at me, steps off the scale and back on.
    â€œHun, you have lost thirteen pounds!” the lady says.
    Viv’s mouth drops open.
    â€œOh my God!!!” she squeals. She pulls me into a crushing hug.
    â€œThirteen pounds! I can’t believe it!”
    Maroon-Hair Lady beams. “Hun, body-percentage wise—this is one of the biggest losses we’ve seen!”
    Viv is hugging herself, jumping up and down.
    â€œBefore I came on board I thought, ‘If I lose five pounds, I’ll be happy!’ Thirteen pounds! I have to call my dad!”
    â€œNow, I have to ask you—have you been eating more than the recommended three to five servings a day?”
    Viv looks at me.
    Of course she has.
    She has two Solu pastries at breakfast, a Solu dessert at both lunch and dinner and they give us two packets at every meal and there’s that chocolate on our pillows at night.
    â€œMaybe,” Viv says. “I’m not sure.”
    â€œWell, you know, this is an exciting loss, but I think you’re going to want to restrain yourself now. Three to five servings is right for a young woman like yourself. I’d play it safe.”
    Viv is nodding, nodding, agreeing.
    I’m going to have to remind her of what the lady is saying. I can tell Viv is hardly listening.
    â€œOkay, sweetie,” the lady says to me. “Why don’t you step up here and let’s see what Solu’s done for you!”
    I step on.
    (Cue a comic wah-wah-wah.)
    â€œWell now, huh,” she says. “It must be the boots. Remove your shoes, honey.”
    â€œBut I was wearing them when I got weighed the first time,” I point out.
    â€œIs that right?” The lady looks bereaved. “Well, I’m stumped. This is not at all what I expected.”
    She looks at me, like she’s a doctor giving news of a fatal illness. “Sweet girl, you have lost seven ounces so far.”
    â€œThat’s what I expected,” I say, but she rushes on.
    â€œTell me about your experience with Solu. Have you been taking the recommended dosage?”
    â€œMy friend was really seasick,” Viv butts in. “And she hasn’t been able to take her doses yet. But she’s feeling better, right, Laurel?”
    â€œI guess so—”
    â€œOh! That’s a relief!” Maroon-Hair Lady gushes. “I haven’t had anyone fail yet this morning. I don’t want you to be the first one.”
    Fail? That seems a little