I’ve decided to lose weight. I’ve also decided not to tell anyone. Since the chances of me slimming down without losing body parts are only slightly greater than me understanding sixth grade math, I’m not expecting results.

Which is fine. I’m used to failing in front of myself, but if I fail in front of everyone it’ll be like Little League baseball all over again. I don’t need that kind of stress.

If you ask me, I’m not fat, I simply have something called Middle Age Spread, which is a ridiculous name for enjoying bacon. It sounds like something 50-year-olds order at a coffee shop.

Me: I’d like a triple mocha latte with whipped cream. Oh, and an everything bagel.

Cashier: Anything on your bagel?

Me: Hmm. How about some Middle Age Spread?

Cashier: Hummus and lard? Coming right up.

See. It’s confusing.

My reason for wanting to lose weight has nothing to do with my health or my appearance because I’m 51 years old and have stopped caring about both. The reason is purely financial – I’m too cheap to buy new clothes.

One of the problems middle-aged people encounter when it comes to weight loss are know-it-alls who recommend exercise. Jerks.

I’ve seen all these slim people running up and down my street, huffing and sweating, their hearts pounding like cymbal-banging monkey toys. I stand by the belief that our hearts have a limited number of beats and I don’t want to waste them hopping over dog poop.

That leaves calorie intake. If a person expends more calories than they take in, they lose weight. Great. I can do that. Right?

Let’s go through popular diet plans and grade them on a 100-point scale.

Atkins, 85 points: Low carbohydrates and high protein, which means plenty of red meat and cheese. However, bread’s forbidden, so minus five points. This diet also doesn’t consider the mental health of my colon. Minus 10 points for insensitivity.

Vegan, 5 points: To successfully adopt the vegan diet, participants must react in disgust to anyone around them consuming animal protein. This includes screaming obscenities at lumberjacks, Germans and breastfeeding babies, minus 95 points.

Vegetarian, 10 points: Similar to the Vegan Diet, but with more protein, less righteous indignation.

Raw food, 50 points: After carefully reading the first two paragraphs on the Wikipedia page, this diet makes sense. This is what our hunter-gatherer ancestors ate, and they lived in harmony with nature. Minus 50 points for not evolving.

Mediterranean, 65 points: This diet focuses on vegetables and olive oil, only mentioning meat in passing. Minus 35 points for depressing me. The remaining points are only because the Greeks and Romans conquered the known world.

South Beach, -50 points: A diet from Florida, a state which boasts headlines like, “Drunk, Machete-Wielding Florida Man Chases Neighbor on Lawnmower” and “Florida Man Crashes Car into Business While Trying to Time Travel.” Minus 150 points just for being Florida.

What’s next?

The Beer Diet, used by monks in the 16th century during Lent, shows promise. As do the Taco Cleanse, Twinkie Diet and the Spanish Sandwich Diet.

I’m losing weight just thinking about them.

Find out about everything Jason at jasonoffutt.com.