Don’t eat the meatball panini.

Four years ago, I did a TEDx Talk in Natick, Massachusetts entitled “Live Life Like You Are 100 Years Old.”

You can watch it here:

The premise of the talk is that when it comes to decision-making, the current version of yourself is an unreliable decision maker because far too often you don’t consider the length and breadth of your life when making a decision.

Instead, we should try to make decisions based not upon the current version of yourself but the version of yourself that exists in the future.

Imagine the 100 year-old version of yourself. What would they say? How would the 100 year-old version of yourself want you to have lived your life?

I know… it sounds a little weird, but I use this strategy all the time to great effect in decisions both big and small. Recently, I made one of those small decisions that I think illustrates the point well.

Three weeks ago, following our sold-out Speak Up show at the Wadsworth Atheneum, Elysha and I joined about half a dozen friends for celebratory drinks. I found myself sitting at a table amongst friends, sipping my Diet Coke, when it was decided that we would eat.

I was hungry. I hadn’t eaten since early afternoon. But it was after 10:00 PM when the menus arrived at the table, meaning I would likely be asleep within the next hour or two.

Did I really want to eat now?

Then I saw it on the menu: A meatball panini. The description of the sandwich sounded like perfection. I wanted that sandwich.

But did I really want to be eating a meatball sandwich at 10:30 PM?

The version of me sitting at the table very much did, but when I asked my future self what I should do, he told me not to do it. Yes, you’re hungry, but only a little hungry, and you’ll be in bed and asleep before you know it. Do you really want a meatball panini sitting in your belly as lie on bed for the bed overnight?

The answer was no, I did not. So I passed. It wasn’t easy, not because of the hunger or the sandwich, but because of the people at the table, many of whom tried to convince me to eat.

“C’mon, Matt. You deserve it. This is a great night.”

“Just eat half. Bring the other half home.”

“Why go to bed hungry?”

I ignored them all and sipped my Diet Coke and told stories while they ate.

Here’s the best part:

The next morning, I felt fantastic about not eating the meatball panini. I had slept like a baby. Avoided unnecessary calories. Made a positive decision for myself. Aided in my efforts to lose weight. Felt so good about myself.

I woke up as the future version of myself, thankful to the past version of myself for doing the right thing. I actually spoke my thanks aloud, saying, “Good job, Matt of the past. You made a great decision last night.”

That would have been more than enough to justify my decision, but here’s the thing:

I still feel good about avoiding the meatball panini. Three weeks later, I’m still happy about my decision that night. I’m still proud of myself for avoiding the peer pressure of a celebratory meal. I’m just as thankful to the previous version of myself today as I was that next morning.

And when I weighed myself this morning,. I saw that I’ve managed to lose 8 pounds in so far in the month of January. It’s not all meatball panini, of course. I’m working extra hard at the gym every day, and I’ve reduced every meal portion by a little, but as I stepped off the scale this morning, I thought of that meatball panini again, and I was reminded of how good, hard decisions made in the moment can bring long-term happiness in the future.

Admittedly, I would’ve been happy had I eaten that meatball panini three weeks ago. For an hour or so, I would’ve experienced all the joy associated with a delicious meal and the satiation of hunger. But given the time of day and my longterm goals, I decided against it, and instead, I’ve enjoyed three weeks of happiness instead.

Three weeks of thankfulness and pride that I did the right thing for my future self.

When we forgo momentary pleasure for longterm gains, we are trading fleeting joy for longterm happiness. We trade short-term outcomes for longterm achievement.

It’s an excellent trade.

I’m not proposing that we don’t live in the moment and enjoy ice cream for breakfast on occasion. When I have a book or column due but Charlie asks me to wrestle, I wrestle every time because I know that my future self thinks the fleeting joy of a wrestling match with my boy is worth the risk of missing a deadline.

Some momentary pleasures must be embraced whenever possible.

But a meatball panini? Not so much.

If you watched my TEDx Talk, you know that I am a person who very much looks to make each moment of his life meaningful in some way. But I also measure those in-the-moment decisions against the future, and when those decisions in the moment are not useful to my future self and the 100 year-old version of myself does not approve, I try like hell to adjust my decision making.

And I’m always happier for it.