Dad Bod Photoshoot

He's back in town and ready to restart his life complete with a new job and new house.

She's a photographer and interior designer with a secret: he's her first crush, her first infatuation, her first fantasy, and he's still everything she wants.

Sparks fly when they meet on the set of a body positivity photoshoot, one he's been suckered into modeling for.

When she agrees to decorate his new house, will his home renovation include her in his bed?

“I can’t believe you talked me into this,” I grumble at my old teammate. We played high school and college football together—that is until I blew out my knee mid-season my senior year. But I owe him for finding me a house here in Spring City, under market value, and in a seller’s market, so what can I do?

“It’ll be fun. They’ll take a dozen photos, ask you a handful of questions, and give you a lollipop for your troubles. Plus, you’ll be doing my girlfriend a solid by participating in her thesis.”

“You’re doing this, too, correct?”

“Yeah, yeah. Shirts off and everything.” Caleb smacks his beer gut and throws me a big smile. “You’re not growing self-conscious on me, are you?”

“Not any more than usual.” I’ve struggled with my weight my entire life. When I was a kid, I couldn’t put any on and was one of the skinniest guys on the team. Then later in high school and college. I beefed up, but I had to spend all my time in the gym to keep it from turning into fat. Once I blew my knee out, keeping the fat off my body went out the window.

“Come on, man, women love you.”

“What does that have to do with being self-conscious about my weight?”

He shrugs and opens the warehouse door. “I don’t know. Isn’t that all a man needs? Food, sleep, and sex.”

“You’ve been reading too many magazines.”

Caleb laughs. “Probably. Cindi loves those stupid ‘how to make a man irrevocably yours in five simple steps’ articles.”

“Hey boys.” A pretty brunette who I can only assume is Caleb’s girlfriend waves at us from a table.

“Hey baby.” Caleb leans down and kisses her cheek while sliding his hand around her back to cup her ass. “This is my buddy, Rhett. Rhett, this is my girlfriend, Cindi.”

“Nice to meet you, Cindi.” I offer her my hand.

“Hey. I’m so thankful you came. It has been hard to get people to sign up for this project. Nobody wants to talk about body positivity issues, especially on the male side of the house.”

“Yeah, well, we’re raised to think we’re not supposed to worry about stuff like that. Right?”

“Or at least not admit it. Meanwhile, every magazine, every movie poster now gives men an unrealistic depiction of what they should look like. I promise you, most women don’t want one of the four Chris’ in their bed. Sure, they’re pretty to look at, but the reality of actually touching one of them, standing next to them in line, eating in front of them… No way. Women have enough to be self-conscious about without adding a man whose entire self-worth is based upon endless hours at the gym and a dedication to protein shakes.”

Scratching at my jaw, I ponder her declaration. “That’s an interesting thought.”

“That’s what my entire thesis is about.” 

She hands me a form. “Would you mind filling this out and signing at the bottom to give me consent to include you in my publication?”

I read through the form, which basically says I will answer the questions honestly to the best of my ability, understanding that my name and age will be revealed and associated with my answers to my picture. There’s also a possibility they might make the thesis available online, either via excerpt or in totality. I sign the form and hand it back to her.

“Great. Why don’t you take a seat, and I’ll get Caleb settled with my photographer. Be right back.”

While I wait, I pull my phone out of my pocket and check my messages. There’s one from my sister, Sara, asking me about dinner tomorrow night.

I type out a quick confirmation as Cindi comes back.

“Ready?”

“Sure thing.” I slide my phone back into my pocket.

“Okay, first let’s start with the basics. Name, height, weight, age, marital status, and education level.”

Fifteen minutes later, we’ve run through a laundry list of questions that have me considering therapy when from over the wall a female voice laughs, “Caleb! Put your pants back on!!”

I raise my brow at Cindi, who turns a bright shade of red and shakes her head. “Should we be worried?”

She pushes back from the table. “Probably not, but since we’re done, let’s go save Amalie from his antics.”