My Chest

I'm watching the film "The Darjeeling Limited" with Owen Wilson, Jason Somebody and Adrian Brody. At one point Brody takes off his shirt and I go into shock. Depression follows quickly. Understand, Adrian Brody was always my fallback guy. Whenever I looked at my chest in the mirror and became distraught at its, well, non-existence, I'd always perk up by reminding myself at least I've got bigger pecs than Brody.
Now I'm staring at shirtless Brody and his pecs are three times the size of mine. How can this be? I see him in these fashion ads and he looks like a stick figure. Is he using HGH? Yes, my arms and shoulders are more impressive, but a man's chest is the fulcrum of his manhood. Oh, I've got enough hair to hide Linda Hunt in there, but the meat is missing. A woman once told me point blank on Thanksgiving while we were dining in Olive Garden in midtown that I "had nothing up there." I could have retaliated by mentioning her expanding hips, but I just smiled uncomfortably and continued eating. I do wear over sized, loose clothes because of my blood pressure. No constricting outerwear, that's been my mantra. Yes, I could have pointed that out. I guess I meekly accepted her judgment because a man with no pecs can't whine. It only makes things worse.
I'm wondering if that really was Adrian Brody or a stunt double.