Frank Mulligan: Some resolutionary weight-loss tips

We all realize that achieving our New Year's resolutions can be crucial in defining our self-image.

And really, who needs this kind of pressure?

One rough rule of thumb is to make resolutions you don't mind failing, like, "This year, I'm finally going to learn how to make balloon animals."

Or, "This year I'm going to write more haiku."

But when it comes to New Year's resolutions regarding waist management, I've tirelessly advocated one key rule to avoid failure: Aim low.

For instance, don't commit to running a marathon in less than three hours just moments after the New Year's Eve ball atop Times Square has made its annual descent.

Instead, pledge to pick up the pace a little when you make your daily trek to the office vending machine for a bag of original flavor Bugles.

Likewise, don't swear you'll eat the recommended nine servings of fresh fruit and vegetables each and every day.

Instead, promise you won't remove the lettuce and tomato from your Wendy's spicy chicken sandwich at the drive-thru.

This way you can avoid the bitter (though calorie-free) taste of resolution failure by the second week in February.

But this year, I came across a New Year's resolution primer put out by a macho health organization with the stated goal of helping the weight-challenged join the svelte set — or else. It was filled with bravado and tough love. There was no mollycoddling here, and it fired me with new zeal.

And while I won't follow any of its recommendations, I will write some tuck-your-tummy-in New Year's resolutions that feature a whole new tough-guy, even psychotic tone.

So here are four resolutionary steps guaranteed to have results, though they may be wholly unintended.

• Call yourself names: Suggested monikers include Chub Scout, the Fifth Teletubby or Human Jumbotron. These reminders will help keep you committed to your goals. There will be no compromise. Mercy is for the weak.

• Encourage others to make fun of you, even strangers: Suggested opening lines in public might be, "Boy, I sure look fat today," or, "Boy, I'm sure overweight to the point of deserving the derision of my peers," or "Do you believe I know the location of every all-you-can-eat buffet within a 75-mile radius?"

• Strike yourself with a heavy, blunt object: Science has proven over and over that negative conditioning works with a capital "W" (for "works"). You whack yourself in the head six or seven times with a T-ball bat, regulation police billy club or lead-filled blackjack and suddenly that Ring Ding doesn't look quite so alluring.

• Consult the good folks associated with organized crime: Simply contact an organized crime syndicate that's convenient to your home or office and make arrangements with one of their "button men" to "teach you a little lesson" if you don't reach certain weight-loss goals. These can range in severity from "throwing you a beating" to breaking a limb, such as an arm or leg, or even to the point of threatening to incorporate you into the load-bearing wall at a new stadium or highway overpass.

The consequences should depend on your level of commitment.

No pain, no gain.

Or, in this case, no pain, no loss.

Wareham Courier editor Frank Mulligan can be reached at fmulligan@wickedlocal.com.

This is a classic column, not because it's necessarily any good but because it appeared in a prior edition.