If I lose 10 pounds, my life will be approximately 10% happier. I will feel better both physically and emotionally. I will be more proficient at aerial because I’ll be lifting 10 fewer pounds each time I climb. When I get dressed in the morning, I won’t need to examine the density of my muffin top. Seeing a picture of myself in a leotard or swimsuit won’t be emotionally scarring. Thus, it makes quantifiable sense I should go to the drive-thru salad restaurant for lunch today.
That said, if, instead of waiting in the 10-car-long line at the drive-thru salad place, while I’m already ravenous, and then another 30 minutes to get home before I eat, I drive through the fast food joint next door and get french fries to eat in the car while I’m driving, my happiness will be improved by at least 50% for the next 45 minutes. French fries are a proven source of joy in the immediacy of their consumption. Plus, in order to reap the 10% increase in happiness that will eventually come with the weight loss, I will have to defer the 50% happiness increase surrounding every meal, three times a day, for approximately two months. This works out to 8,100 minutes over the next 2 months that I will have to choose to be 50% less happy in order to eventually be 10% more happy.
This also does not take into account the maintenance salads (and accompanying happiness decrease) I will have to forgo french fries for over the next foreseeable eternity to keep the weight off and maintain my 10% improvement in happiness.
Additionally, if I move forward with the plan for the 10% improvement in overall happiness, there’s a 30% chance at some point during the 8,100 minutes of fairly significant unhappiness, I will be unable to maintain control of my temper during a blood sugar crash, and I will get out my car after that bitch in the white jeep with the stupid fucking vanity plate that says SASSY, cuts in line in front of me at the drive-thru salad place, and stab her in the arm with the wine opener I keep in my purse.
In the event that I stab Sassy Bitch, there’s a 90% chance I’ll go to prison, because you can’t just stab bitches, even if you’re dieting and she deserved to be stabbed. If I go to prison, according to Orange is the New Black, I can expect an overall 40% decrease in general happiness due to both the total lack of french fries and anything of nutritional value on the menu. Although I will (again, according to OITNB) ultimately learn some life skills that will probably balance out a portion of that. And also there are some hot chicks. Plus no one has to wear leotards or swimsuits in prison.
So I think what I’ve concluded here, is that if I don’t eat french fries now, I will regret it eventually when I am in prison.