“Dad Bod, Sad Bod, or Stoic God? A Roadmap”
Sculpt your life. Or at least suck it in better.
Let’s face it, fellas: sometime after 40, your metabolism doesn’t just slow down—it goes on strike. One minute you’re in your thirties, eating burritos the size of a fire extinguisher and still managing to look “rugged” in a fitted t-shirt. Next thing you know, you’re standing in front of the mirror with your shirt off, wondering when exactly your chest started drifting south like a pair of confused Canada geese.
Welcome to the golden age of the Dad Bod, where the only six-pack in sight is made by Coors, and the word “plank” is something you use to fix your deck.
But don’t despair, noble Hombre. This is not the end. It’s a crossroads. A heroic, cheese-covered fork in the road. You can continue down the path of the Sad Bod (see also: couch-induced hibernation, seasonal Doritos disorder), or you can ascend—slowly, cautiously, and probably with a little Advil—to the status of Stoic God.
Let us guide you.
Step One: Know Thyself (And Maybe Schedule a Colonoscopy)
The first principle of Stoicism is wisdom—which, for the modern man, means finally accepting that your body is not a temple. It’s more like a church basement that still works but smells faintly like chili and regret.
You may feel young inside. You may remember youth vaguely. However, if your knees make a noise like Velcro being ripped off a wet cat every time you get up from the couch, it’s time for a little self-awareness.
Here’s a quick quiz:
- Do you grunt when you tie your shoes?
- Do you make “dad noises” just sitting down (note, I catch myself doing that without my knowledge)?
- Do you own multiple back pillows, all of which have names? (“This one’s for driving. This one’s for the couch. This one’s emotional support.”)
If you answered yes to any of these, congrats—you are no longer a “young buck.” You are an “aging moose.” But aging is not failure. Aging is just your body sending you gentle, dignified reminders like, “Please don’t try parkour again.”
Wisdom is knowing that the goal is not to be 25 again—it’s to not be 65 next week.
Step Two: Temperance (Or, Maybe Skip the Double Nacho Bacon Blizzard Taco)
Temperance gets a bad rap. People think it means giving up everything fun and becoming the kind of guy who brings raw almonds to parties and says things like “I don’t really do sauces.”
No. That’s not temperance. That’s how you get uninvited.
True temperance is balance. It’s about enjoying life without waking up covered in cheese dust and regret. The Stoics weren’t against pleasure—they were just against letting pleasure turn you into a bloated circus seal clapping for pizza rolls.
So go ahead—have a beer. Eat the ribs. But maybe don’t eat the ribs, then the pie, then the cheese plate, then wash it down with ranch dressing like it’s a beverage.
Practice this ancient Stoic ritual: The Pause of the Fork. Halfway through a meal, pause. Ask yourself, “Am I still hungry, or am I now just emotionally invested in defeating this burrito out of spite?” I know the burrito had it coming, but come on Hombre.
Step Three: Movement, AKA: Exercise, But Let’s Not Call It That
Let’s be honest. Most of us don’t want to “work out.” We want to have worked out. What we really want are the results of fitness, preferably without the sweat, inconvenience, or the guy at the gym who grunts like he’s passing a kidney stone every time he curls a dumbbell.
But movement is medicine. It’s also how you tell your body, “I still care.” You don’t need a CrossFit gym in a repurposed warehouse called “The Pain Foundry.” You need consistent, unsexy effort.
Take walks. Do pushups. Wrestle your dog. Walk to the fridge like you’re on a mission from God.
Here’s a Stoic tip: treat discomfort like a test of your character. Marcus Aurelius didn’t have an elliptical machine. He had a sword, a scroll, and chronic Roman gout. And he still got stuff done.
You can jog for 20 minutes without crying. Or at least, quietly crying.
Step Four: Your Body Is a Temple. But It’s Also a Garage
It’s time to reframe how you see your body. Some health gurus want you to believe your body is a temple. Something sacred. Untouchable. Pristine.
And that’s fine. But for most of us, our body is more like a garage.
It works. It holds the essentials. Sometimes it leaks a little. It has tools you forgot you had. And it always contains at least one mystery box labeled “Old Injuries & Baggage.”
That’s okay. The garage still has value. It’s where work gets done. Where life is built. And yes, where there may occasionally be a lawn chair, a beer, and a suspicious bag of unopened Halloween candy from 2021.
The Stoic God understands this. He doesn’t strive for perfection. He strives for function. Can you play with your kids? Lift a suitcase without summoning an ambulance? Defend your lawn from raccoons with a garden rake and dignity?
Then you’re doing fine.
Step Five: Mental Strength Is Physical Strength in Disguise
Finally, let’s talk about the brain. The body gets all the attention because it jiggles when we walk. But it’s the mind that commands the troops.
Stoic wisdom is about resilience. Which is useful when you’re trying to survive modern horrors like:
- A diet that bans bread
- Spin class
- Your co-worker’s motivational TikTok videos
- Mirror selfies that seem to have been taken by a sentient potato
The Stoic God is not perfect. He is aware. He knows when to push, when to rest, and when to say, “You know what, I’ve earned this cheeseburger, and I’m gonna eat it like it owes me money.”
Final Words from the Wisdom Garage
You don’t need abs to be admirable. You don’t need to be shredded to be strong. You just need to show up for yourself with intention, grit, and the ability to laugh when your knees make noises that sound like someone stepping on a Lego.
You are not just a Dad Bod.
You are not a Sad Bod.
You are a Stoic God.
One plank. One grilled chicken breast. One Oreo at a time.
And Remember—You’re Not Alone in This
At Hombre Man, we get it. We’re right there with you—navigating the glorious, chaotic, cheese-filled battlefield of middle-aged manhood with humor, grit, and just enough caffeine to power a small forklift.
Our mission is simple:
To help men live fuller, wiser, and stronger lives—without having to give up beer, bacon, or basic dignity.
We blend ancient philosophy with modern reality. We sell coffee for now (potentially hot sauce and supplements later, if you guys want)—but what we’re really offering is mental armor, camaraderie, and the occasional reminder that you are not, in fact, the only guy Googling “how to fix my back with a foam roller and raw determination.”
This isn’t about perfection. It’s about progress—with laughs, purpose, and community.
So welcome to the Hombre Man brotherhood.
We’re looking out for you.
And we brought snacks.
Live stronger. Think deeper. Caffeinate daily.
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