The future seems like a wonderful place. Having finally lost all the weight you wanted to lose, you won't have to diet, but will be well-satisfied with 2000 (or whatever) calories a day. Having built toned muscles to go with that lean body, you will be able to keep that good shape with less than an hour of working out a day, and it will mainly be stuff your new body genuinely enjoys--tennis, or some other sport, perhaps. Having cleared your plate of distractions and other projects, you will work at what you really enjoy--and not at the mercy of some stressful deadline, but putting in perhaps four hours a day which pass quickly, you being in the flow state and all. The future will be wonderful.
But you'll never get there.
Between you and that future loom the six months of murderous diet and exercise it will take to lose that forty pounds. (Eighty pounds, a hundred? A year at least.) And you find that just starting that exercise at your current weight hurts and hurts and hurts, and at the end of the day there is no comfort food to make it all seem worthwhile. And you can't do that creative work until you clear your plate of other demands, and it's very hard to do that when all the distractions of the Internet beckon.
You can't get there from here. You will spend the rest of your life ... here. In the present.
Somehow, you must skip the part where you have to make superhuman efforts and sacrifices that in your heart you know you will never make, and start living now the way you imagine yourself living then. Because that could actually work. Let me go on.