Stretch a little . . . flex the shoulders . . . down on the floor, palms flat, up on toes. Is the back straight? Check! Head up, look straight ahead . . . let’s rock the exercise!
Arms: Um, excuse me.
Arms: Just WTF do you think you’re doing?
Me: Uh . . . pushups?
Arms: Pushups? You mean, like the real kind with effort, and sweat, and such?
Me: Well, yea. That’s the general idea.
Arms: Oh, is it? And did you consult us about this “idea” before getting into this silly position?
Me: No. I mean, I didn’t think . . .
Arms: Well, that’s obvious! Dude, do you know how long it’s been since we’ve done anything like this?
Me: Sure, it’s been years! That’s why I want to start . . .
Arms: Right, YEARS! You think you can just get up on your toes and tell us: “start pushing, chumps”??? We ain’t your bitches!
Me: Well, I know it won’t be easy, but . . .
Arms: Easy? Did you say EASY??? Dude, how about impossible? You dropped some poundage, but you still ain’t exactly a lightweight ya’ know!
Me: It’s gotta be done. You guys have been slacking for ages and I’m tired of it!
Arms: Oh, it’s OUR fault. We’re the ones who sat on the ass reading and watching the idiot box every day! We didn’t hear you complaining when we brought all those potato chips to the mouth for you, did we, tubby?
Me: Yea, well . . . those days are over. I’m getting healthy now and that means you guys gotta pick up your share of the load again. I need you to be strong!
Arms: I got news for you pal: we AIN’T strong, and quite frankly, we don’t wanna be! We like where we’re at. We enjoy chillin’ and don’t see any reason to spend our morning pushing your sorry ass up and down!
Me: Tough tooty! You’re gonna do it anyway, cause I say so!
Arms: (beginning to tremble from extended time in the push-up position) Heh-heh! Listen to who’s all bad-ass and shit! How you gonna do this stupid exercise when we’re shakin’ more than Beyonce on Ecstasy, eh?
Me: (beginning the exercise) One!
Arms: Ow! Dude, knock that shit off, that hurts!
Arms: Don’t make me call up reinforcements!
Arms: That’s it! Hey, Chest!
Chest: Excuse me, but I have to agree with the arms. This is an unacceptable situation and if you continue I’ll be forced to start tearing apart muscle fibers until you desist. It won’t be a pleasant experience for any of us, I assure you.
Arms: Yea! How you like that, Bizatch?
Chest: (beginning with a slow burn) I don’t think you believe me. I assure you, I have no compunction about causing you immense pain.
Arms: (wobbling harder) Hah! How you liking us now?
Me: (grunting) Six!
Chest: (beginning to burn like someone has inserted hot coals under my skin) Have it your way, then. I’ll just continue to turn up the pain levels each time you insist on repeating this crass stupidity.
Arms: (quaking and jiggling uncontrollably) Hee hee!
Me: Seven . . . Eight!
Arms: (singing and dancing joyfully) . . . come, dance with me . . . Hey, Macarena!
Chest: This burning is only the beginning you know. If you persist, I shall cramp up on you. Trust me, my friend, you won’t like that at all.
Chest: (throbbing in agony, muscles tightening sickeningly) You leave me no choice . . .
Me: (screeching like someone just shoved a fork up my ass sideways, and collapsing in a pile on the floor.) Teeeeeeeeeennnnnnn!
Chest: (slowly turning off the burn)Well, I’m glad you came to your senses. Let’s avoid this unpleasantness in the future, shall we?
Arms: (still twitching, they just madly hum “Macarena” over and over, while giggling)
I roll over onto my back, bend my knees, put my feet flat on the floor and force my shaking arms to clasp hands behind my head. Alright, here we go . . .
Stomach: Um, excuse me? Just what do you think you’re doing?
Me: (fighting back tears) Oh, just shut the fuck up!!!!