Curse you, Wii Fit!

We have a Wii Fit that I have deliberately neglected for about a year. Part of the reason for that is because I usually have a limited time in which to get in a workout and I'd rather do something mindless like run or do some circuits that cause a healthy amount of physical and mental pain--all for the greater good, of course. The Fit doesn't cut it for me. The other reason I've neglected the Fit is because it's just plain condescending, and although I seem to think I can handle the brutal truth, I don't find a whole lot of motivation in condescension.

I decided to put some batteries in it and fire it up last week. I have been kicking off a pound here and there and wanted to see how I measured up since the last time I used it. I was encouraged when it said my BMI and weight were notably lower than the last time. But then it said something to the effect of, "Bummer! You failed to achieve the goal you set for yourself. Maybe you should set more realistic goals."

I don't remember ever telling the Wii I had a goal. I wonder what it was anyhow. I mean, did I miss it by a pound or two, or twenty? Stupid Wii Fit.

Then it broke the news to me that although my BMI is within the "normal" range, it should be one point lower. Fine!

I set a new goal, an easy, fake goal, because my real goal is loftier, but I'll never confide that in the Wii. It would probably laugh and say, "You suck!" I wonder what it will say when I reach my fake goal. I'm sure it will have some smart comment and probably recommend that I take the next step and become anorexic.

I took the body test next, hoping that despite its assaults, it would tell me that my Wii Fit age is 25. Hey, a girl can dream! I would have been wise to just walk away at this point.

I was excited that my balance was just a hair off centered; I thought I did well. Fit pointed out that I could improve. Then it gave me some agility test where I'm supposed to sway around and try to make the dot on the screen knock out the boxes. I didn't have my best score and the Fit said agility was obviously not my strong point.

"I'm agile, you bitch! What does agility have to do with dots and boxes?" I was escalating-- yelling at my TV like a drunken football fanatic.

Then Wii Fit was ready to announce my Wii Fit age: 39.

"THIRTY-NINE?!"

I turned everything off and laid down on the floor next to the insolent plastic board and looked at it. I can run a few miles and shimmy the garage shelves to the ceiling and haul two preschoolers through grocery stores and beat my husband at arm wrestling and fold myself in half and I'm 39?! Did it secretly scan all the wrinkles on my face too?! I was paralyzed with discouragement and stayed there on the floor for a good ten minutes, just staring at the ceiling, trying to remember why only moments before I had been all happy and optimistic.

Stupid Wii Fit. It knows nothing my scale can't tell me with one mute, red number. I withdrew my batteries from the board, deeming it unworthy of the energy it requires to exist with any consequence, and shoved it back under the entertainment center.

I haven't written off the Fit completely. I'm working on growing some thicker skin and will be sure to wear my emotional armor the next time I step on that board. Perhaps with thicker skin and emotional armor, I can tell it I'm wearing "Heavy" clothes, before it assesses my BMI.

I don't know what I was thinking--going to an inanimate object for encouragement and motivation. The next time I need a pep talk, I'm calling my running buddy.