In an effort to stop an embolism from coursing through our brains due to the inactivity of our middle-aged, overweight bodies, we pretended we knew what we were doing and bought a Wii. Immediately, we added a Wii Fit to the ensemble.
Hey, I already admitted we were only pretending to know what we were doing.
The first thing I learned to do with it had nothing to do with exercise, but had everything to do with just screwing off. I learned how to create a Mii. Miis are the little computerized figures that represent yourself and anyone else that you desire. I often desire George Clooney, so I plan to make a Mii for him in the near future.
Once we realized that our individual Miis could interact with other Miis of our choosing, we made several other family members, too. My son, my much despised son-in-law (for the boxing games) and my elderly mother, amongst others, all became members of our Wii community. Facial features, hair color, glasses, wrinkles, height and body appearance were added into individual figures that were given the appropriate names. After a couple of days of playing with Miis, I felt brave enough to finally step onto the balance board.
The first assault to my psyche was when the Electronic Kommandant insisted on measuring me.
So, like a good, fat broad, I put in my height and what I guessed was my approximate weight. The damn machine then shortened my Mii down proportionately and plumped it up to look like a little bowling ball with limbs and glasses. It then announced in its annoying little Wii voice, “Oh! That’s obese!” My little Ina Mii stood off to the side, already huffing and puffing without even exercising, and hung her head in shame. It was with great restraint that the balance board didn’t get hurled into the TV at that time.
Somehow, it measured my BMI and other things that fat people generally don’t want to know about. Then, it asked to weigh me, for real. The greatest fear of my existence was about to take place, all in the comfort and privacy of my own den. I took a deep breath, and allowed the dreaded deed to occur. The annoying little Wii voice then announced, “Oh! You really are obese!”
So, I immediately entered a password to protect my weight from Kevin’s eyes.
I have to admit, I know that weight wasn’t accurate. It was taken on carpeting instead of a bare floor, I wasn’t naked, I’d already had breakfast and lunch and hadn’t made a doody, yet. These are all important criteria for obtaining an accurate weight in my delirious little world.
Once my password was in place, I went back to the Mii Plaza and played with making fake people again. The humiliation and pain of actually moving my body could wait for another day.
To be continued…