The actor Jake Gyllenhaal wore a sleeveless sequined dress for a Saturday Night Live skit recently and his huge, well-formed biceps took my wife's breath away.
Literally. She exhaled like she had been hit in the stomach and made a gasping sound. And I know it was Gyllenhaal's biceps my wife coveted because a moment later she felt my biceps and let out another involuntary sound - only this one sounded like a tire deflating.
There were other subtle hints that my wife was impressed by Jake Gyllenhaal's biceps and disappointed in mine. For instance, she bought me a set of weights and said, "You should work out."
I took the hint. My wife and I now refer to my biceps as "My Gyllenhaals" - in honor of the man who whose sleeveless sequined dress started it all. I work out every other day and have learned a few things about my Gyllenhaals:
For instance, it is possible to exercise your biceps so strenuously that a completely unrelated muscle on your back blows out. Please feel free to insert your own "Brokeback Mountain" jokes here.
Also, Gyllehaal's are much like helium balloons - they look their best just after being blown up. For this reason, I now do push-ups just prior to walking into any room. This has the side effect of making me look permanently angry and out of breath, but at least my arms are more impressive.
After weeks of working out, I decided to "pose down" in front of a mirror and evaluate whether I'd actually reached my goal of making two of my body parts achieve that Gyllenhaal look.
And indeed I have. After weeks of working out and hundreds of dollars of equipment, my breasts look exactly like Maggie Gyllenhaal's.
My wife is disappointed. I, on the other hand, think Maggie Gyllenhaal is hot.