Bernard O'Shea: The Dad Bod Diaries — Forget Looksmaxxing... try Middleagemaxxing

I’ve accepted my fate and dedicated the second half of my life to mastering the things middle-aged men are actually good at

'My remote control (and it is mine) lives in the little gap between the armrest and the main cushion.'

Looksmaxxing is an online trend where people, mainly young men, try to maximise their physical appearance.

They focus on everything from skincare and haircuts to fitness, jawlines, fashion, and posture, all with the aim of becoming the most attractive version of themselves.

For some, it’s simply about self-improvement; for others, it can become an unhealthy obsession with chasing impossible beauty standards.

For me, though, it’s all about looking at the glass half full.

I’m halfway through my life. I’m constantly half thinking about losing weight, getting a six pack, and I secretly harbour dreams about becoming the first ever male nude on the cover of Ireland’s Own.

I know this will never happen (I haven’t contacted Ireland’s Own yet, but I’m betting it will be a no).

Also, my self-improvement days are over.

My body and I are essentially “in for the night”.

I’ll never be joining the queue at the looksmaxxing nightclub and, even if I did, I’m pretty sure the bouncers wouldn’t let me in.

So for the next half of my life, I’ve decided to spend my time concentrating on maxing out the things I’m good at.

I call it middleagemaxxing, and I’m the goat at maxxing out the following four things:

Couchmaxxing

I don’t just sit, I blend. I become the couch, and the couch becomes me. I have my spot. The kids know it’s my spot. My wife knows it’s my spot. The beautifully curved impression of my arse pommeled into the leather lets everyone who sits there know it’s my spot.

I have a tea and coffee area right beside me, too. It faces the window. This is where the “maxxing” happens. I like to watch the condensation that the steam from my tea creates on the glass. 

You might think this is the height of laziness, the ultimate in doing nothing, but it’s not. It’s a scientific visual cue that lets me know when my tea’s temperature is just right. My remote control (and it is mine) lives in the little gap between the armrest and the main cushion. It’s hidden away from grubby little hands.

Complainmaxxing

My wife honestly thought I would grieve the loss of Joe Duffy when he left Liveline. It was my daily dose of cathartic pleasure generally consumed in the car between school and sports pick-ups and drop-offs. 

But who needs call-in shows on national radio when I can do them in my head on my own, any time, any place. Give me any topic, and I can complain the life out of it. Recently, I went on a three-day tirade about how quickly brown bread goes off and how bakeries expect us to eat a full loaf in one day (give me the right cheese, and it’s possible). My current bugbear is the quality of bin liners. Explaining to my wife that none of them, albeit advertised as “strong” or “thick”, are not, and it’s false advertising.

The look in her eyes was that of a woman who has a foolproof plan on how to get rid of my body when she breaks.

My new nirvana is Trustpilot. It’s my new metal passifier. I shriek with joy inside when I see a fellow complainer with petty grievances similar to my own.

Procrastinatemaxxing

Remember the A-Team? “In 1972, a crack commando unit was sent to prison by a military court for a crime they didn’t commit. These men promptly escaped from a maximum-security stockade into the Los Angeles underground. Today, still wanted by the government, they survive as soldiers of fortune. If you have a problem, if no one else can help and if you can find them. Maybe you can hire the A-Team.”

I’m the one man A-Team of procrastinatemaxxing.

“In 1979, a little red-haired baby was born in Portlaoise Hospital three months premature. After a couple of weeks in an incubator, he was released into the mean streets of Durrow. Today, he is wanted by no one for anything; he survives as a comedian and sole trader. 

"If he has a problem that he knows someone can help with, if there’s something that needs to be done yesterday, even if someone emotionally or physically tries to help with whatever job needs to be done, he will find a reason to put it off. If you have a job that needs doing, you should never call… Bernard O’Shea (den den den, den den deeee den den deeeenn).”

Dunnesvouchermaxxing

I’m not afraid of dying. I just don’t want to die before I get to use up my Dunnes vouchers. I have a diary and an alarm set for when they run out. My mum keeps her vouchers for me. I’m a voucher pouncer.

Most of all, I have to tell the first available human I meet how much it would have cost me without scanning my digital sets of prudent barcodes. If you’re not on it, you will never know the thrill.

I may never be a looksmaxxer, but when it comes to middleagemaxxing, I’m operating at an elite level. And unlike a six-pack, I didn’t even have to go to the gym to get there.