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Why is the Dad Bod hot but the Mum Bod not?

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Baby boy on the strong hands of his father

Dad Bod, Dad Bod, Dad Bod. I am so sick of reading those two words. It seems that every time I dare to waste a precious moment to leaf through a magazine or newspaper there is someone singing the praises of the Dad Bod.

For those not in the know, the ‘Dad Bod’ is the latest hype doing the rounds about the male physique, championing the fact pumped arms, pecs and washboard tummy are out and a real man’s body, indeed a Daddy’s body i.e. somewhat presentable, with the potential for cuddling and a real tummy – is in.

Now don’t get me wrong, I have no problem with what the Dad Bod actually is. I have never been a fan of an overworked body on a man and I’m very happy that my partner has a ‘Dad Bod’ – to me, that is a real man not one that spends too much time looking at himself in a gym mirror; but what about the Mum Bod?

I want to know why nobody is banging the drum for the Mum Bod? You know, slightly saggy boobs, slightly wrinkly tummy, some cellulite, and growing thighs complemented by arms that look like you’ve been carrying something around all day because – oh yes, you have!

No, nobody is going on about how sexy the Mum Bod is are they? Nobody is plastering photos all over the internet about how much they love a Mum Bod or celebs sporting Mum Bods. No it’s all about look how fabulously she bounced back after her pregnancy or laying into people who actually do have a Mum Bod.

Is it me, or is something very wrong here?

Is it me, or is something very wrong here?
When I look in the mirror I see boobs that have gone from lovely pert things to 4 week old balloons gasping for air.
I see hips that were once all lovely and slim that you could now drive a bus through.
I see legs that were once all smooth and shaved now pickled with veins and bruises.
I see a tummy that has gone from one to three boasting  more wrinkles than any smile could ever make.
I see a bottom that has gone from I’ll have a piece of that to I’ll have a piece of jelly wibbly wobbling on a plate please.
But you know what? It ain’t perfect – but I’m ok with it, actually more than ok with it. I’ve come to accept what it is, and though I’m not exactly a nymphet, I’m something a whole lot more.

With that in mind, I want to see people singing the praise of the Mum Bod, the Bod that has been through so much transformation, that has sacrificed its former looks for the greater good, but yet is still sexy in its new found skin.

I don’t want to hear about a Dad Bod which has basically done nothing to achieve its glorified position because hey, guess what I went to the gym once in the week but then pigged out on beer and pizza at the weekend. GIVE. A. SHIT.

So I say, if we really have to sing the praises of the Dad Bod, that’s ok if we must, but let’s also sing them for the Mum Bod too yeah?

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