Dad Bod$ & Dollar Bill$

<p><strong>Middle age doesn't have to suck. But it might wear tight pants.</strong></p><p>It's the least sexy male revue you didn't know you needed.</p><p>Once they were Friday night legends-carved out of muscle drowning in swagger and fully convinced the glory days would last forever.</p><p>Fast forward a few decades and the only thing still carved is their credit score. After a global pandemic a couple of divorces and careers that flatlined harder than their metabolism these five former football stars are broke unemployed and sharing a rental house that smells like regret protein powder and the ghost of last week's questionable takeout.</p><p><strong>Meet The Dad Bods.</strong></p><p>When the options run dry they do the only logical thing left: throw on some spandex crank up the disco and reinvent themselves as middle-aged performance artists.<br>(Not strippers. God no. That's their line. It's a blurry line but it's there.)</p><p>What begins as a half-baked plan to survive turns into a full-blown spectacle-with packed venues rabid fans and a shot at the Vegas stage they never saw coming. Along the way they find something better than their abs (which let's face it were already on borrowed time): purpose brotherhood and the confidence to make complete fools of themselves-in the best possible way.</p><p><strong>It's not a comeback. It's a reckoning embrace.</strong></p><p>A celebration of the new reality: middle age will make you reconsider every life choice... like believing sneezing is still a low-impact activity.</p>