The Shape I’m In


The Dad Bod is all the rage these days. 

By Luke Robinson

Did you know that when human beings look at themselves in the mirror, they find themselves to be 56 percent more attractive than they actually are?

Of course you didn’t. There’s no way you knew that…because I just made it up.

However, we all do consider ourselves much hotter than we really are. I believe that to be a fact and I think I even  read it online somewhere.

Recently, though, I was looking through my iPhone to determine which pictures to delete so the memory would have enough room for more “yacht rock” songs  (quit judging me). To say I was astounded by my own unattractiveness would be the understatement of the month.

I literally asked myself, “Who is that lanky guy with the surprising double chins walking next to my wife?”

Then I realized. 

It was me.

Crap. 

So, I decided to examine myself through photos further. Not in a weird, medical way; I just looked at candid shots of myself that other folks had taken to determine how bad this situation really was. I have always been a little self-conscious about my overall appearance, but this self-review topped my worst fears.

My hairline is deceptively receding. My abnormally long torso is doing a poor job masking my new pudgy belly. My legs— oh God, my legs!—are simply mangy stilts barely capable of balancing my disproportionate upper half.

I noticed all of these faults as I sat in my kitchen in my boxers and stained white undershirt drinking a hot green tea made in my Keurig. Then it hit me: I am a dad… And… and I have a “Dad bod”!

You know what a “Dad bod” is. A moderately doughy outer shell filled with random, uncontrollable digestive sounds. It has hair where it isn’t supposed to have hair and no hair where there once was.

If a “Dad bod” were a towel, it would be the bath mat at a bachelor’s apartment that had not been replaced in a week. Yes, technically it is still a towel, but it has seen a lot of traffic and it smells a little funky. In other words, my better days were obviously and officially behind me.

Days later, however, a ray of sunshine beamed down on my widow’s peak. I see yet another article. This time via Twitter. It detailed how “Dad bods” are now the hit thing among women—young and old alike!

Could it be? Could the opposite sex actually be digging “pudgy” over “pumped”? I was certainly skeptical.

Luckily, the column came complete with a picture of college-aged kids with their own “Dad bods.” These guys definitely weren’t the cross-fitting, kick-boxing, jump-jacking turbo-hunks Hollywood demands. In fact, when it came to their abs, they looked less like they were on their way to having  six-packs and more on their way to funneling some.

Granted, the young men pictured didn’t have the worn-and-torn looks on their faces that 45 years on this planet has given mine, but still; moderate chunkiness’s  being “in” is a win in this Dad’s book.

So, when you see me and my army of “Dad bods” littered about the Magic City this summer, don’t turn away from us in disgust as you have in the past. Embrace us. Love us. Soak in our Rubenesque frames with delight! Don’t question if that noise was one of our belching mouths,  growling stomachs or something much, much worse.

For we are the hot, new way to be attractive and (unless you put a stack of donuts in our way) WE will not be stopped!

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