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Published on 06/29/1998 All articles from this issue

Beefcake: 'Oh my!'

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By Kerri Havnen Gordon

The Living Experiment

Oh my. I exhaled, shut my eyes, and shook my head. My friend said, "Oh my is right." We had been waiting for our children to get off the bus after a day at camp, surrounded by other moms and scores of wet, dripping, sunburned children. We weren't prepared at that moment to be in the presence of beefcake.

But there, standing up against the wall, was the genuine article. He looked to be about 20 and must have been a camp counselor. He wore shorts, no shirt, and his bronzed, rippling torso would have put a Calvin Klein underwear model to shame. He wasn't just standing there; he was leaning against the gymnasium wall, his hands on his hips as he talked to his friends, his physique begging to be admired. Oh my.

I shook my head, trying to shake off the vision as my friend and I turned our backs to him so that we could talk about him.

"Just think. In a few years our boys might look like that," my friend said. This was not at all what I had been thinking.

"No way. They're only 9! My son will NEVER look like that, not as long as I'm his mother," I said.

"Can you imagine being that guy's mother? The girls must be all over him," my friend said.

Now this was a depressing thought. Sure, I'm almost 37, just barely old enough to be the beefcake's mother. But have I really reached the age where it is natural to imagine what it is like to be the mother of beefcake? After all, he could pass for 25 and after a good night's sleep and with a little makeup and from at least 20 paces, I might pass for 30 ...

One might think I had never seen beefcake before. It's just that it has been a long time, specifically spring break in Palm Springs during my senior year in college. Tanned, bare-chested, ripe specimens littered the pools in such numbers that I stopped noticing them. But in the past 15 years, the closest I have been to half-naked, barely-drinking-age beefcake is those pesky underwear ads, and they weren't life-size or three-dimensional.

Men in my age group don't flaunt or strut the way genuine beefcake does, and who would want them to? Their attractiveness comes as much from the inside as it does from the outside. These darling men, first and foremost my own husband, are thankfully long past the stage of strutting. What I think is attractive these days is when a man openly gives his wife a kiss on the cheek or when he pitches a softball to his son. My own husband looks particularly adorable when he carries our 6-year-old on his shoulders, when he smiles just watching our boys play in the backyard, and when he orders wine in a restaurant.

My husband, while handsome, does not fit the traditional definition of beefcake, neither in rippling muscles nor attitude. He does possess a caring, generous spirit and a great sense of humor. He easily is the most steadfast person I know, and he even earns extra husband points by occasionally bringing home my favorite chocolates. Plus, he doesn't mind eating cereal for dinner when I'm too busy to cook.

I would never trade him for beefcake. But oh my!

Kerri Havnen Gordon lives in Mountain View with her husband and two sons. She pledges a smooth and scandal-free term of office.