Terms of Service: All the Calories You Ever Signed Up For (But Didn’t Read)
Welcome to the Buffet of Betrayal
Ever notice how Terms of Service are just long, cryptic breakup letters from apps you barely use? Now imagine if calories had their own Terms of Service. Yeah. That’s right. That “just one bite” of cake? You just agreed to three weeks of treadmill penance without even reading the fine print.
Like my Uncle Louie used to say before his third helping of lasagna, “If it’s free at the office, it’s calorie-free.” Wrong. That’s how I gained 12 pounds and a motivational quote calendar from HR. True story.
By Consuming This Snack, You Agree to Be Haunted
That innocent-looking mini-muffin at the office meeting? Yeah, it’s the Trojan horse of carbs.
Case study: Diane from accounting—fit, health-conscious, part-time yogi—once ate a mini-scone. Next quarter, she had a loyalty card at three bakeries and called her treadmill “The Regretmobile.” She never recovered.
Calories don’t hit instantly. No. They’re like bad exes. They wait. They ghost you for two days, then show up on your hips like, “Hey stranger, remember me?”
All Sales Are Final and Non-Refundable (Except to Your Thighs)
Once calories go in, they don’t come out with apologies. There’s no refund policy, no cancellation window. It’s like signing a lease on a one-bedroom in your belly. You’re locked in.
Remember Chad from college? Ran marathons, drank smoothies, the whole “I’m better than you” thing. Then he discovered cheese fries. Now his marathon is walking to the fridge and back. Twice. With breaks.
Calories have no customer service number. Trust me, I tried to call. I just got a voicemail from a donut saying, “Eat me.”
You May Not Redistribute These Calories Without External Force (i.e., Squats)
Here’s the fun part. Once you’ve digested that artisanal triple-cheese mac ‘n’ cheese, it doesn’t move out unless you do. You want to cancel those calories? There’s a 48-hour return window and a Zumba class involved.
Aunt Margie swore by “manifesting weight loss.” She whispered affirmations into her cheesecake. The cheesecake whispered back: “Girl, you better start jogging.”
Consent is Assumed When Standing Near Free Samples
Supermarkets. God’s calorie testing ground. You walk past the cheese sample guy, and BOOM—you’ve accidentally agreed to 750 bonus calories.
I once went to Costco hungry. Worst decision of my life. Came out full, ashamed, and the proud owner of a 12-pack of microwave churros I don’t even remember picking up.
That’s how it works. You breathe near snacks, and the Calories Legal Team says, “He nodded. Roll the tape.”
Your Brain Will Gaslight You (and Blame the Avocado)
The human brain is an unreliable narrator. Mine told me, “You need a snack for energy.” Then it told me, “You deserve this burrito. You’ve worked hard.”
Worked hard doing what, brain? Changing the TV input?
Karen from Pilates once justified a large milkshake by saying, “It’s calcium.” That’s not how bones work, Karen.
Midnight Snacks Are Binding Contracts
There’s a special clause for after 10 PM. That’s when the “Calorie Gremlins” take over. They whisper things like, “Toast doesn’t count if you eat it over the sink,” and “No witnesses = no calories.”
I once woke up next to an empty bag of Cheetos and a vague sense of shame. It was like a food hangover. I checked my phone—3AM. I’d googled “how to delete calories from body” and watched 17 YouTube videos about celery.
Spoiler: celery didn’t help.
Conclusion: Click “I Accept” and Regret Nothing (Or Everything)
Look, we’re all just walking Terms of Service. You eat the cake, you pay the price. But at least you lived a little. Just don’t forget to read the fine print next time, or at least glance at the scale before you trust that bag of trail mix labeled “healthy.”
Calories are tricky, sticky, and sneaky. But hey, so are we. We survive them with wit, workouts, and the occasional fruit we pretend is dessert.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go have a private word with a slice of carrot cake that lied to me.