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May 22, 2007
His abs are painted on but he likes to brag about them anyway. In the movie theater auditorium he lifts up his shirt and makes you put your index finger against his rib. “Feel how hard they are,” he says while angling his chest and clamping down with all his might. At dinner he leans over the table and whispers, “I can feel the food stretching my muscles. I worry that I might gain weight.” In bed he rolls over the middle, luxuriating with his arms above his head, bare-chested and you see the lines sprayed on by the technician.