Wii? Wheee!!!

Last week, my husband stumbled upon SarcasticGamer.com's parody of the the Wii Fit balance board commercial, and we spent what seemed like hours watching it. The kids, me, my husband, watching it over and over again. It was a family activity. In the parody, the balance board is referred to as "a little white thing you stand on" that combines the "perfect balance of barely moving and doing mundane things" and will help you "[get] the family out of the backyard, and back in front of the television." It was pretty hilarious, and I went to sleep thinking that Nintendo's latest creation looked like a waste of money. Who would buy one of those?

The next day, when my husband came home from work, I heard Miles exclaim, "OMG, Dad -- I can't believe you bought a little white thing you stand on!!!" Underneath the sarcasm, my son's heart was utterly bursting with love for his father. No doubt about it, Daddy was The Man.

"I got the last one," grinned my husband, standing proudly with his catch.
"Oh, wow, that's great!" I said, smiling back while doing one of the most uncelebrated moves of wifedom -- suppressing-the-urge-to-roll-my-eyes. It takes great self-control, and adds to marital harmony. There are countless women who are experts at this move.

I decide to wait till I am home alone before trying out the Wii Fit. I am good at laughing at myself, by myself, so this seems perfect to me. First, I find out that I have to register myself so that I can track my progress. I try to do this, but discover that I don't have an avatar -- a "Mii" in Wii-speak. This means that I have never played any Wii games with my kids at home. It is confirmation of a sad fact in our household: Mommy is no fun. Daddy has a Mii. My son and daughter have several Miis. They've even made a Mii that looks like Charlie Brown. Even my kids' friends, Perry, Gabe and Wes, have Miis -- and they don't even live here! Sigh. I proceed to make a Mii. I am able to give Miiself freckles, but am stumped when it comes to hair color. Blackish brownish hair with platinum highlights is not an option. I must choose between black or platinum. Hmmm. I choose black.

Next, I have to enter my birthdate and height. Nobody told me that the Wii Fit would confront me with any moral dilemmas. Do I enter my height as what is on my drivers license, or my actual height? I stand a bit taller and round up to my drivers license height. Okay, that's done. I am waiting for the screen that asks me for my weight, pondering what to enter -- my drivers license weight, or my actual weight? Suddenly, the screen shows my Mii and my Body Mass Index (BMI). Wait. I am no doctor, but I know that you need to know somebody's weight before you can calculate BMI. How does the Wii know my weight? Egads, the little white thing I am standing on knows my weight! Since I haven't stepped on a scale in a while, my curiosity compels me to click on the "weight" button to see if I am closer to my fat-weight or my less-fat weight. Whoa. I apparently have a new fat-weight! Sigh (again). I click back to the BMI screen, and am comforted by the percentages that I do not really understand.

Now that I know my weight, I am more motivated to get fit with the Wii Fit. I am instructed to choose an on-screen trainer. My choices: (a) depressing-to-look-at skinny female trainer with unattainably perfect body, or (b) muscular yet eunuch-like male trainer. I choose the male trainer. He speaks in a reassuring and encouraging voice. I think we'll get along just fine.

I begin my Wii Fit workout with Hula Hoops. There is happy music, and Mii-Miles and Mii-Wes are part of the picture, cheering me on. I am good at this. Childhood memories of playing in our backyard with a real shoop-shoop-hula hoop are translating into muscle memory, turning me into a Wii Fit Hula Hoop star! I am determined to keep doing this until I have dethroned Mii-Miles from first place. This takes a little while, but I am sure that I must have burned off several thousand calories in the process. After I claim the crown, I move on to something else. Yoga, apparently, is not my forte in Wii Fit land. Neither is the step class. And the skiing and jogging games look like they will give me motion sickness. An axe-throwing game would be really good, but I don't see one here. I go back to the Hula Hoops. Superstar! I have found my happy place in Wii Fit land.

I return to the Wii Fit the next day to see my progress. Sadly, I have made none. My weight has gone up. Apparently, I did not do enough Hula Hooping the day before to counteract the chocolate croissant, bacon, eggs, and hash browns I just ate for breakfast. I try to do a little Hula Hooping, but my kids seem annoyed at my trash-talking while I am monopolizing the Wii Fit. Okay, I wasn't actually trash-talking, but they could sense that my presence had changed when I was Hula Hooping. I was exuding royalty, swinging my hips around and around so that my Mii could retain her Hula Hooping crown, and it was clearly too much for the kids to handle. Mommy was having too much fun. Time to step off the little white thing.

The following morning, my husband is decked out in his running gear. "Who wants to go running?" he asks, in the general direction of me and my son. I peer up at him, still in my pajama-like clothing, not wanting to go anywhere yet. I open my mouth, but before I can speak, I hear my son saying the words that I had formed in my brain: "No, thanks, Dad. I don't need to go jogging outside -- we've got Wii Fit!"