I’ve always been big boned, cuddly, festively plump and during some periods in my life just straight up fat. I’m not one of those people blessed with good genes (or jeans for that matter) and my metabolism was replaced by a cheeseburger many years ago. Carrying that extra weight has followed me round all my life, no matter what I cut out, how much I trained or the amount of potions that disappeared down my throat. Admittedly laziness probably played a part.
Winter has always been my friend. The warmth during those cold nights and the ‘fancy being Santa this year enquires’ making me feel wanted, not to mention Festively Plump and winter weight is definitely a ‘thing’. The summer months spent looking over my shoulder in case Green Peace tried to net me while I was poolside sipping on a fancy fruit filled cocktail (I counted this towards my five a day).
To maintain my cuddly physique and stop myself edging towards the chubby abyss / heart failure I found eating when hungry rather than the set 3 meals a day kept me in check.
Then my super swimmer located its goal and it went downhill from there. More food started to get stocked in the house to prepare for Tash’s cravings. It’s worth noting, my prediction would be Haribo, crisps, chocolate, biscuits and those microwave burgers from the petrol station that seem to fill a drunk hunger hole…. Oh and mini cheddars, she definitely was going to want Mini Cheddars.
Turns out Tash didnt have any cravings, although occasionally she liked some fresh fruit. But what about all the prep shopping I hear you ask, worry not, I took care of it. Unfortunately, this resulted on the lbs starting to creep up on me like delicious stealth fatty ninja.
The baby arrived!! Hooray! I celebrated with a pack of hobnobs and a gentle cry.
With our world completely turned upside down, sleep being now a distant memory, time of day just being something you heard other people talk about that didn’t apply to you anymore, I found myself getting hungry all the time. The controlled eating pattern of one meal a day went out the window and was replaced by a Peter Griffin style diet plan – the see-food diet.
When it did seem around dinner time (although to be honest with zero sleep, dinner time also resembled breakfast time, lunch time, super time, who bloody knows) it was so rushed to make it fit between nappy changing, feeding and bouncing that you usually had it cold, had to take it in turns to eat and when it was your turn inhaled it like you were competing for some kind of trophy. Indigestion would be knocking on the door within a number of hours, Tums now being one of your life lines. The need to pump my body full of sugar in order to keep it going didn’t help of course.
So here I am 3 months after Raffy was born, being called jiggle belly by my Mrs (who by the way lost all her baby weight pretty within a week) and looking like I am now the one pregnant. My favorite clothes don’t fit anymore – doesn’t stop me from trying to wear them though – going out looking like I’ve bought both mine and my sons clothes from Baby Gap and realising my inny belly button can now fit more fluff, which by the way seems to always match my socks…. Weirdly.
Do I go to the gym? Hell no, I had no time for that before and certainly have no time for it now. Not to mention can’t bring myself to be one of those ‘leg day’ people.
Do I give up beer? Hell no, it’s what’s fuelling this love machine. I know I know some peoples machines are useless when beer powered.
Do I cut back on my food intake? Hell no, as it is my body currently only enjoys lunch and a small dinner the rest is coffee. Before Raffy arrived I quit smoking and switched to Vaping, I haven’t smoked in 5 months and that’s from 20 a days for YEARS and someone who loved smoking. No doubt this has had an impact, or so people tell me when judging me weight gain. Although, I found, if you stand further away from me, I look the same size as I did.
Should I just embrace my new found chubby motor home style physique? Hell yeah! I’m built for comfort not speed. I’m sure at some point these pounds will disappear – or maybe not, as it does seem a little tougher once you pass 30 – but either way, I’m comfortable within myself and for me that’s the most important thing. Of course every man wants ‘that’ body but my time is allocated elsewhere, and for me that’s the most important thing. I’ve accepted the fact that this seems to be one of the byproducts of being a new dad. The more I speak to other fathers and noticed my friends around me getting fatter after they welcome their little ones into the world, at least I know I’m not alone. When people judge me when I’m next by the pool, at least I can blame my son rather than Ronald McDonald.
So with that, I’ve ordered a pizza and I’m about to clean the nappy bin.
DAD BODIES RULE BITCHEZZZZZZZZ! As my friend Mr Timberlake once said. I’m bringing cuddly back.