I’m trying to lose weight in time for my brother-in-law’s wedding. I don’t know why. I’m not even the one getting married. But it’s my wife’s brother, and she told me to. Though she said we: “We need to lose weight.” If I said “we,” I’d no longer be invited to the wedding.

So I need to diet. For the longest time, I didn’t want to diet. I don’t want to be one of those guys who goes to people’s houses and says, “I can’t eat that. Are you crazy?” So number one, I decided that I’m still going to be a social eater. If my wife puts food in front of me, I’ll still eat it. When I’m not around people, I’ll try to watch what I eat. So my new goal is to be anti-social.

I also don’t want to be one of those people who keep talking about their diets. Talking about your diet doesn’t help you lose weight. Despite what people believe. Or maybe they don’t believe that. Maybe they talk about their diets because dieting is lonely. You have all these theories of how you’re going to lose weight, and they might not pan out, so you at least want someone else to say, “Yeah, that makes sense.” Also, eating less isn’t really eating less unless you can confirm that you’re eating less than somebody. So I’m not going to be one of those people who talk about their diets. Except in this article, obviously.

Dieting isn’t easy as it used to be in the old days, when no one had food. Your body is actually programmed to get rid of as little of what you eat as possible. The way it works is that if you eat more than the amount of energy that your body needs, it stores the food for later. Except that when later comes around, you just eat again. It’s kind of like if you buy two packages of chicken, and make one for Shabbos and put one in the freezer, and the next Shabbos, you buy two packages of chicken and stick one in the freezer. Eventually, you won’t be able to get your freezer door closed.

So the issue with dieting is that no matter what diet you’re on, your body will eventually figure it out, and then figure out how to save as much as possible of whatever food you are eating. Even if you starve yourself, your body will be like, “Okay, after this tiny meal he’s going to starve himself again. I’d better save everything.”

Your body is some big lummox that you bring everywhere, because, without you, it would just wander into traffic. And it’s a hoarder. That’s really what it is. You eat something you don’t need for energy, and your body’s like, “Well, we don’t need this right now, but what about tomorrow?”

Hello, look in the closet. There’s plenty of food for tomorrow. You came to the store with me.

So I’m on a diet, sort of. I’m not on any specific diet. My goal is to do it randomly. One day I’ll have no carbs, and another day I’ll eat almost nothing, and another day I’ll count calories. I don’t even plan which day will be which; I just let it happen. The idea is that if I have no idea what I’m doing, there’s no way my body will figure it out.

That’s the new diet: Keep changing what you do and what you eat. Keep your body on its toes. (Well, technically, they’re your toes. You just can’t see them.)

I also started exercising. Some people say, “I’d like to exercise, but I don’t know what kind of exercise to do.” You know, because some exercises help you lose weight and some help you build muscles, and muscles weigh more than fat, so that’s not a direction you want to go.

My strategy, as with dieting, is to just do any kind of exercise that I’m least in the mood not to do. But most of what I do is something called “bodyweight exercises.” Bodyweight exercises are when the weight you use is your own big, fat body. You’re not going to get a heavier weight than that, without picking up a car. Basically, it’s like lifting a dumbbell, only the dumbbell is you. The hope is that sooner than giving you muscles, your body will just say, “You know what might help? Making the weight lighter!”

Also, some days I run. Only I haven’t actually done that yet, because my workout clothes are the same kind of sweatpants that I normally wear to bed, and if I run outside, everyone will say, “Where is he running in his pajamas? Is he late to something?”

So far I haven’t lost any pounds, as far as I can tell. But I think my scale is broken. I’d go to a neighbor, but as far as I can tell from everyone I’ve spoken to, everyone’s home scale is broken.

And even if it is broken, you know those things are like 10 bucks, right? Also, how do you suppose it broke?

Mordechai Schmutter is a freelance writer and a humor columnist for Hamodia, The Jewish Press, and Aish.com, among others. He also has four books out and does stand-up comedy. You can contact him at [email protected].

By Mordechai Schmutter