Although I have been opposed to video games for years, I now own a Wii.
The Wii Fit is an amazing toy/exercise tool. It weighs you, calculates your body mass index, and then tests your reflexes and balance to determine your Wii Fit age, which it then uses to select exercises for you.
According to the Wii Fit, I am 48 years old. According to the Wii Fit, I am on the cusp of 50, I am headed for menopause, about to get some serious crows feet, about to droop so badly that my current body will seem taut in comparison.
According to the Wii Fit, my body is five years older than I am.
This is supposed to motivate me. It is supposed to fire me up to exercise and get fit and lower my Wii Fit age. It doesn’t. It depresses me. It reminds me of being in sixth grade and being picked for teams — not last (a fate reserved for those uncoordinated AND unpopular) but last of the non-rejects.
Know what I mean? The hierarchy of being picked for teams went like this:
- Your friends who were good athletes –
- Good athletes who weren’t your friends
- Friends who weren’t good athletes
I fell into category three. The bad athlete. Not quite a category four — not quite hurricane bad, but bad enough. Now, thirty years later, I have a piece of equipment in my family room telling me what I’ve known since I was eight: I am not a very good athlete.
What next? Will it mock my hair and make me feel like I’m wearing the wrong clothing? Will it taunt me in the hallways because I have such an obvious crush on Joel Malina?
And the thing is, I am coordinated. Give me a dance step and I’ll pick it up like that. Put me on ice skates and I’m good to go. But throw a ball at me and I’m a clueless, graceless, klutz who’s always picked last, never gets the guy, and wears plaid skirts and horned rimmed glasses without a trace of irony.
Is the Wii fit fun to use? Sure. It tracks your progress, offers encouragement, and points out that I am old, out of shape, and fast headed to early-bird specials, pant-suits, and Mah Jong with the girls.
Fun Fun Fun.
I once read that the vast majority of home exercise bicycles end up being used as uber-expensive dry-cleaning racks. Maybe I can use the Wii Fit as a trivet. Or a really low step stool.
Or maybe, I should get up off my ass, get on the damn thing, and bring my Wii Fit age down to 25.
I wonder, will that erase my age-spots? Bring my pre-baby boobs back? Magically infuse me with the elixir of youth?
Maybe. And if not, another publicist sent me a Pajamagram (very cozy), a bunch of episodes of The Closer, Saving Grace, and My Boys, and a Do Not Disturb sign for my bedroom door. Wii are definitely expert at that.