Buns of Steel ... Not!

The trouble with working for Charity is that you spend half your life asking people for things.

"Hey Buddy! Congratulations on winning that great raffle prize! Can I have it?"

Now normally I am not one for making requests - the Parental Body drilled the old maxim of "it's rude to ask, wait until it's offered" into my fundamental psyche at an early age (with not universally positive results, I must say!).

However "wait until it's offered" just does not cut it in the highly competitive Charity market and while I wouldn't dream of asking for something for myself, when it's for the poor, sick kiddies one learns to be shameless.

Of course asking for things can have unexpected results ...

The other night I was at a networking function and asked the incomparable Simon whether he'd give me a free gym membership to auction off at our Ball.

"Sure" says he. "Glad to help. But speaking of the gym, you look like you could do with a little training yourself - how about it?"

Oh my God! Trapped! Nothing to do but accept gracefully that I've been out-manouvered and sign up for a course of personal training sessions. And, after all, the old gluteus is getting a bit too maximus so it's probably just as well.

So off I tottered at lunchtime today for my first session with Simon. I have to say here that Simon is a SERIOUSLY good looking man. I recall seeing him at a Slime Ball once dressed in nothing but a white hip wrap and body paint and I still haven't quite recovered.

"Miss Betty!" he cried as I staggered in, panting slightly from the 10 minute walk and small flight of stairs negotiated on the way. "Now don't you worry. We're going to take it nice and gently for your first visit - just 6 apparatus and nice low weights. You'll be fine!".

"No sweat" I think as I squeeze myself into the first contraption - the design of which I can only imagine was copied from pictures of the Spanish Inquisition. And he's right! The first couple of leg extensions are remarkably easy. Piece of pie! Easy as cake! And how many, exactly, am I supposed to do?

The answer, apparently, was 12 and by around the number 8 I was fast losing that false sense of security. And then there was the next fiendish machine ...

But I persevered! I made it through all 6 exercises without seriously damaging myself or others and was quietly congratulating myself on a job well done when Simon chirped up with "That was great! Now we're going to do 2 more circuits, but this time with 20 reps each!"

It was then that I realised that while Simon might appear to be a nice boy with a great bod, he was in reality A DEMON FROM THE ABYSS OF HELL!!!!!

30 sweaty and pain filled minutes later, it was time to leave and this time I was not fooled by the wide smile and cheery wave that accompanied the fatal words "See you next week!".

Charity is tough!