Beefcake?
From Merriam-Webster:
book·worm | \ ˈbu̇k-ˌwərm
: a person unusually devoted to reading and study
Synonyms: dink [slang], dork [slang], geek, grind, nerd, swot [British], weenie, wonk
beef·cake | \ ˈbēf-ˌkāk
: a usually photographic display of muscular male physiques
also : a man of the type featured in such a display or such men in general
Synonyms: hunk, pretty boy, stud, superstud
First of all, the title was my girlfriend’s idea. She loves yelling “beeefcaaake” when I do manly things around the house, like open jars of marmalade and carry groceries inside. We’ve been together since 2016, so she’s only known the “muscular” Jason. She has as hard a time understanding that my self-perception is more rooted in the fifteen-year-old geek than the fifty-year-old “stud” as I do understanding her perception of me as a beefcake.
There’s a lot to unpack here, so let’s start with a general physical history of me. I was always the short one, barely passing five feet as I got through middle school. Just 120 pounds after a big meal. I couldn’t wait for my growth spurt to hit in high school, but lucky me I was a late bloomer. My senior year, I finally sprouted and grew ten inches or so until I reached my current height (five foot, ten and a half inches, thank you very much) sometime my freshman year of college. Now I was no longer short, I was average!
And the pounds just packed on. Fully decked out in winter clothes, I could tip the scale at 140 pounds. Seriously, I was a stick. I ate like a fiend, too, just could not gain weight. I maintained this physique for another twenty years, through two black belts, lots of ultimate, running and various attempts at keeping fit. I was in decent shape, just had the physique a teenage girl would die for. I mean to have, not drool over.
Let me pause for a moment to discuss body shaming. It is not my intention to say that one body type is better than another. For god’s sake I do not want skinny guys to think I think there’s something wrong with them. I was quite content being skinny, and had given up hope of being anything different, even though I’d always wanted to be more muscular. Point is, we all need to be happy with ourselves, no matter how we look. Other people’s perceptions shouldn’t matter, if you want something different, you need to make the change. Ok, soapbox over.
Finally my brother-in-law RJ started training me in my late 30s. We started with weights and getting my form right, then jumped into HIIT (CrossFit and then RJ’s own diabolical blend) and suddenly the muscles started piling on. OK, no they didn’t. It took years and lots of hard work. But it was work I enjoyed, and one thing that did happen quickly is I started feeling better.
Joints that had been aching stopped aching. Running was easier. Heck, breathing was easier. It’s amazing what good form and great coaching can do for you physically. I had just assumed I would start having more aches and pains as I was getting older, instead as I continue to work out they get less and less as I age.
And, yes, my physique changed and I started putting on weight. Currently I’m around 172, and most of that new weight is muscle. I could certainly stand to lose a few pounds and maybe not drink so much beer and I doubt many people aside from Lorraine want to see me with my shirt off. But I’m definitely no longer super-skinny.
And now, slowly and with Lorraine’s influence, I’m starting to shift from seeing myself as a skinny 17-year-old and embrace my new “beefcake-ness”. I find that to be remarkable and a huge step in growing up. Maybe in another twenty years I’ll mentally move on from being a teenager, too. But maybe not, I mean, where’s the fun in that?
