10/19 UPDATE: This post was featured on DC Blogs and HippestSnippets today. Thanks, guys!
My husband wants me to keel over and die so he can finally be with the much-younger mistress he has stashed away, like some trapped Chilean miner.
That is the only valid reason I’ve come up with as to why he is making me get up at 5:30am every day to do P90X with him.
For the uninitiated (meaning, the people who can still laugh and cough without severe abdominal pain…>sigh< I remember those carefree days…) P90X is an extreme workout program that you do in the comfort (heh) of your own home.
This morning (the third morning of the program), I actually pretended I was asleep when he asked if I was ready to get up and do this. Since he knows I am the lightest sleeper, ever, he persisted and I got up and went downstairs for today's exercise session -- something called “plyometrics” (from the Greek "plyo-" meaning "Goddess of Torture" and "metrics" meaning "thank you, sir, may I have another?").
This is a challenging workout. Now, don't get me wrong. We have weathered many challenges in the years we've been together, such as: spending 24 hours a day together during a two-month cross-country road trip, planning a wedding, raising a child, living with my in-laws for six months to afford the aforementioned two-month cross-country road trip, and the current season of "The Office." Interestingly, none of these prepared me for the challenge that is not punching him in the brain when he wakes me up at 5:30 and tells me it is time for an hour-long S&M session...minus the fun part.
His mistress has no idea what she is in for.