As unpleasantly plump people, The Singer and I constantly seek ways to shed at least part of our plumpness. (Yeah, yeah, we know. Eat right and exercise. But we keep looking for easier, more fun ways.)
The Singer and her husband, who shall be known as Tenor (he sings, too), got a Wii Fit for Christmas. (Wii is pronounced “we.”) It offers something like 40 different fitness activities that you can do in the comfort of your own home with your TV. They invited Dr. Lobo and me over to experience this new and wonderful thing.
Wii Fit looks like this. You stand on a pad and hold a do-hickey in your hand. (Don’t ask me to give the do-hickey a real name. I’m technologically challenged. Somehow it lets the TV know what you’re doing.)
The Wii weighs you, groaning when you step on the pad. The avatar immediately changes from cute little thing to swollen image (with the sound effect you’d hear if a cartoon character blew up a balloon). I was ready to discard the whole idea. I mean, I know I’m heavy, but does the dang machine have to groan? Does it have to have a realistic looking avatar? Then the Wii figures your BMI and labels you with words I’d rather not use. (See below.) At this point, I was not enthralled with Wii Fit.
Tenor demonstrated some of the activities, and it was entertaining to watch. The “people” on the screen look like the Playmobile people that I constantly stepped on while raising my kids. They applaud and cheer you on. I was beginning to like the Wii Fit. I need lots of encouragement to exercise.
I told Dr. Lobo we definitely needed a Wii Fit. Then Tenor and The Singer encouraged us to try it. Dr. Lobo wisely declined, but I was willing.
I am an incredible klutz. The only physical thing I’ve ever done well is birthing babies, but that’s a story for another time. Let’s just say that I was the kid who was always chosen last for teams, and my athletic abilities haven’t improved with age and increased weight. I decided to try the activity that looked the easiest—hitting a soccer ball with my head. How hard could that be?
In the soccer activity, you get points for the balls you hit. However, you must also dodge shoes being thrown at you (just like President Bush). Panda bear heads, which look a lot like soccer balls until they get closer, bombard you, too. If you’re hit by a shoe or panda head, you lose points. As you continue, the objects you must hit or dodge come faster and faster. Or at least it seems that way.
How hard could this be? Let me tell you, for me it was hard. Those flying objects clobbered me, quickly bringing my total score into the negatives. Tenor tried to give me pointers while laughing his fool head off. Dr. Lobo and The Singer were hysterical. I laughed harder than I’ve laughed in years, which of course made me lose even more points.
You know how your stomach hurts when you laugh really hard? Well, my stomach hurt big time. I stopped laughing, but my stomach still hurt. It felt like strong labor pains except that there were no breaks. Finally, the others realized that I was hurting and tried to help. Did I need heat? Ice? Did I need to lie down? I didn’t know. I hurt so much, I couldn’t even talk. Dr. Lobo maneuvered me over to the couch and had me lie down. While I moaned, the other three whispered about what they should do.
In a couple of minutes it was over. The pain disappeared as suddenly as it began. I was weak and sweaty from dealing with pain, but I was going to live.
Now Dr. Lobo tells people that his wife is so out of shape that she spent only two minutes on the Wii and he had to consider calling 911.
I don’t think I’ll buy a Wii Fit anytime soon.