With Maine’s annual three-day swimsuit season rapidly approaching, this seemed like as good time as any for a progress report regarding the new “artisanal” weight loss program I’ve recently embarked upon. Artisanal? I know.

In the “old days” I’d have said, “the idea I just made up a moment ago.” But lately talk like that just seems so last century. Nomenclature notwithstanding however, I hereby submit for your consideration my first weight loss report.

Before revealing the numbers though, I think it’s worth mentioning that the impetus for this project came largely (pun intended) from the recent, shocking realization that, barring immediate and drastic intervention, I would soon be the (proud?) owner of a classic aging American male physique.

You all know what I’m talking about. Although frequently obscured by voluminous size 3XL Hawaiian print shirts (I have a closet full of these), and tent-sized, accordion-waisted “relaxed fit” jeans (ditto), this distinctive body style is easily spotted by sharp-eyed people watchers at shopping malls, airports and fast food emporiums from Boston to Beijing.

Its primary distinguishing feature is a unique “bulging pear” shape, which in my case (especially in the profile view) must have helped fuel the rumor that I’ve been earning extra cash smuggling basketballs past the U.S./Canadian Border Patrol at the Calais/St. Stephen crossing.

Perhaps understanding my motives will help you better appreciate the satisfaction I derive from simply having an unobstructed view of the digital readout on my bathroom scale. I am therefore pleased to report that barely five months into my scheduled 12 month weight loss plan, I’ve successfully passed the halfway mark!

They say numbers don’t lie. And if that’s true, then dropping approximately 57.83 percent (but who’s counting right?) of my original lard allotment should mean that I’m well on my way to meeting my original weight loss goal. It sure looks that way, huh? Tragically, looks are often deceiving.

The good news is that folks have already started to notice the difference. Why just last week a woman I’ve known for years said I was “looking rather fit.”

“Ah,” I thought. “Now it begins. She’s already using the “F” word.”

I’m not sure whether you’ve noticed this particular linguistic trend or not. But, in recent years it seems that the meanings of the adjectives “fit” and “trim” have undergone a major transformation. This phenomenon is particularly noticeable amongst women of a certain age who, in turn are more likely to employ these two words when discussing men of a certain age.

It appears that the previously innocuous terms, “fit” and “trim,” when used in this context, constitute a convenient shorthand, a genteel social “code” that when properly interpreted, conveys the message: “He’s less likely than most to drop dead on the golf course next week.”

Of course, I might be wrong about that. But I don’t think so.

Either way, I was a bit taken aback to hear one of those words tossed in my direction. Frankly, I can’t remember the last time (if ever) anyone seriously accused me of being “fit.” True, what my friend actually said that day was that I was “looking fit,” which turns out to be not even remotely the same as being fit.

I hate to break it to you. But while dropping any amount of blubber is a laudable achievement, that alone does not equal “fitness.” As my own recent experience proves, it’s entirely possible lose a bunch of weight by remaining utterly supine for hours on end, binge watching Game of Thrones and wolfing down boiled broccoli florets. I’m not saying it’s easy. But it can be done.

So, if I expect my personal weight loss program to bring about anything remotely resembling actual fitness, I’ll clearly need to get off the couch at some point and tackle the dreaded “F” word head on. There’s no way around it (believe me I’ve checked).

Fitness apparently requires activating specific muscle groups other than those located in the jawbone region as per my current regimen, which I like to think of as “Working out with a Fork.”

Thus my toughest weight loss challenges may still lie ahead. My success thus far has, in all likelihood, been a simply matter of snagging the “low hanging flab,” as it were. And if that’s the case, then the remaining 42.17 percent will undoubtedly require some actual muscle movement.

All in all, this is a rather daunting prospect for someone who tends to get exhausted merely contemplating exercise.

Which reminds me, could you snag me a few more of those boiled broccoli florets? They’ll help keep my strength up while I lie here shopping for a used copy of the original Jane Fonda workout tape.