My husband, as I believe I�ve mentioned before, is a writer. One of the hazards of being a family member of a writer is that you are occasionally called upon to serve as story material. This is one of the reasons I don�t feel particularly guilty for mentioning my husband here from time to time, but my sensitivity to this issue is also the reason I don�t talk about him very much. My husband is similarly sensitive and I have never felt that my privacy has been in any way compromised.

My husband has a piece coming out in a men�s magazine a few months from now in which I receive an offhand mention. The story is not remotely about me, but because it is a (humorous) personal essay, I am mentioned. On Friday he showed me a galley with the artwork. Hmmm.

In the picture, a cartoon, I am depicted scolding my husband with hands on hips. I am wearing a bikini. And I must say, I fill it out rather nicely. Oh, and I don�t have a head.

I took one look at it and started laughing my ass off. Because as a soon-to-be-Ph.D. specializing in gender studies (who, incidentally, hasn�t worn a bikini since the age of 4), it is not every day that I get to be shown in that particular light. Given the publication, I am neither offended nor surprised. But it�s just so predictable.

My husband regularly complains about the perils of being judged as a dad for how television depicts fathers in general. They are all idiots. They are all under the thumbs of their wives. And men watching kids without women around are probably pedophiles. He�s got a point. Although my husband does have a Homer Simpson-like talent for belching, he drinks his beer from a bottle and seldom while lying on a sofa. He is by no means stupid or even misguided in his parental decisions, and he has certainly never throttled our son until his tongue protrudes from his mouth in jagged waves. So if he can protest the depiction of fathers on TV, I can certainly complain about the wife in the magazine art.

My major objection is that I�m headless. For, as anyone who knows me will tell you, I�m all about the head. I�m not thrilled by the implied shrewishness either, but I certainly know how to kick ass when there are asses that deserve kicking. As for the bikini, well, I have to admit, I�d like to look that good in a bikini. Who wouldn�t?

My husband�s editor called to ask him how he liked the layout. He said, �It looks good, but I think my wife may have some issues with the picture.� The (female) editor said, �She does? I�d kill to look like that.� And the fact is, so would a lot of people, as any night on reality TV would show you.

The depiction of women musicians in the media is one of my side projects and one I plan to kick into high gear after the dissertation is finished. Part of my work at the Newberry Library has included examining the cover art for a musical magazine published over the course of 75 years. Most of the covers feature women musicians � a fact that is interesting in and of itself, as the magazine is not specifically geared towards women. But the types of pictures and they way the change from, for example, the suffragette era to the Rosie-the Riveter era to the June Cleaver era offer interesting reflections on the changing roles of women in the early twentieth century. So what is a picture of a headless, shrewish wife in a bikini saying about women in America today?

I�m not sure I want to answer that. I think I�ll be framing the piece and hanging it on my office wall. Right next to my poster of Rosie the Riveter.

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