Last night I was at the gym, going through that old sham, leg-walloping the elliptical, sweating big ol’ bullets and watching an episode of Seinfeld on the crummy LCD (I usually watch Food Network but I realized how bleak that looks to others). It was then that I realized I was there to look like him.

Watch the clip above—it’s from the episode where Elaine is trying to sell muffin tops, and Jerry gets stuck shaving his chest to impress a girlfriend. Classic fuckin’ ep. There’s a scene in which Kramer confronts Jerry about said chest grooming while Jerry is in the shower—we get a view of Jerry’s upper body, and I realized, between glances at the elliptical’s TV screen (what a time to be alive) and the mirror (I can’t believe I’m alive) that this is what I’m working towards, basically, when I exercise. That upper body condition is what I go to the gym to achieve and/or maintain (more the former than the latter, these days). I don’t want dadbod, gothbod, or Chris Pratt bod, or your bod—I want Jerrybod. Seinfeld was 41 when this episode came out (1997), and as a 28 year old this is either a realistic physique or I should kill myself.

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Lithe, defined, democratic, moderately hairy. I would never shave my chest, though. As I was walking home I texted someone about this and they didn’t respond for a long time.


Contact the author at biddle@gawker.com.
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