What's that?
The Good Lady poked at an opened paper parcel on the table before me.
It's a parcel.
I looked up at her, my face glum as if I had found a piss-covered pen in the bin with two blue lines on it.
I can see it's a parcel, duh. What's in it? Something nice? Something for me?
Her face lit up at the thought of her man festooning her with presents that weren't of the hot fish yoghurt variety.
No, it's not for you. Sadly, it is very much for me.
I nudged the parcel over to her and gestured for her to take a look inside.
Hmm, what's all this?
She opened it some more and peered in at what looked like a blue piece of cloth and some kind of welcome pack.
I sighed heavily like an old seal sitting on a harbour wall.
Remember that night on the balcony of our apartment on holiday? That night we were a bit squiffy on the wine and I read something on Facebook about a pushup challenge?
I closed my eyes and tilted my face to the ceiling.
Oh yes, ha. You were pished that night. You read it and said it would be a piece of piss and that you were the pushup King and could do it no bother. In fact, think you said it would be a "fucking doddle" and that your left testicle could do it in its sleep? Something along those lines.
The Good Lady grinned. She loved telling me how much of a fanny I could be when on the sauce.
Yup, that's the one. A fucking doddle. Oh yes. A fucking breeze.
I shook my head and moaned in self-pity.
So what's the problem then?
The Good Lady pulled the blue thing out of the bag and it unfolded to become a T-shirt emblazoned with charity nonsense.
I think I signed up for it.
I murmured quietly still with my eyes closed.
You said it would be a doddle though. Easy peasy, barely an inconvenience. I mean, remember you did one before, seven pushups a day for months it was. Yeah, don't fret baby, you can do it.
She reached over and patted my arm.
I mean how many do you have to do?
She looked at me expectantly, her man, the King of Pushups.
One hundred a day, every day for the month of November.
I let out a strangled yelp.
Oh. Oh, that's a lot, isn't it? Don't worry, you will smash it. You are the King of Pushups!
She patted my arm a little more vigorously this time.
Slowly I opened my eyes and looked at her and her big believing face.
The thing is Ladypops. Sometimes... and I know this might be hard to believe... but
sometimes I exaggerate a little. One hundred pushups. That won't be easy. It will be hard as fuck. I could weep at the thought.
I let out a little hiccup or it might have been a sob of remorse for being such a dick and signing up for such a thing.
The Good Lady's eyes danced with barely concealed hilarity.
Oh, Daddy-Bear. Exaggerate a little? You? I can hardly believe it. Don't worry. I am sure you will smash it and it will be over with in no time. Just think of how good a shape you will be in by Christmas!
She snorted with amusement took my hand then attempted to look mildly serious.
Can I do anything to help or support you in this challenge oh great Pushup King?
She gave my hand a little squeeze.
I frowned as if deep in thought.
Maybe a BJ would help?
I waved at my nethers hopefully.
HA! I think someone had better start training.
She got up and walked away chuckling about the Pushup King.
I harrumphed loudly.
Damn, it was worth a try. Might as well start practising these fucking pushups then.
