Another friggin’ chocolate galaxy. It a wonder the space obesity problem isn’t even MORE rampant. You look down at the ground longingly, but have JUST enough restraint to turn back to your ship. As you take off, you go to the mess hall and eat a ration bar instead. It tastes like a mixture of space hay and drywall mud.
“Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels,” you lie to yourself wistfully.