DAY ONE

Because my mother and stepfather are the only people still financially supporting Blockbuster, it takes me about fifteen minutes to figure out how to unhook the frequently used DVD player and hook in the Wii, which is literally behind the television gathering dust.  This is a good sign. 

I spend another fifteen minutes designing my little Wii version of myself and secretly being jealous that my legs will never be as thin as the animated, bug-eyed Brianna that stares back at me from the TV screen.  I am told to enter my height and then stand on the Wii Fit board (which doubles as a scale).  I’ve gained a pound since the last time I weighed myself so I am immediately angry with the Wii Fit.  None the less it determines that my BMI (Body Mass Index) is “normal”.  Good to know.  Then my personal, yet slightly see-through trainer rattles off a bunch of useless information that suddenly makes me realize that Wii Fit is designed for people who are brain dead.  My trainer—who I’ve named Sven—tells me that people with “normal” BMI’s are more healthy and therefore less likely to get sick or fat or any of those other things this Wii Fit is apparently going to save me from.  Next I have to do a balance test, which seems literally pointless so I barely try (that’s laymen’s terms for I apparently royally failed the balance test even though I’ve been snowboarding and wakeboarding for close to ten years…so screw you Sven.)  Then to top off the insults that keep on rolling, Sven tells me that my brain age is 20, but my body’s age is 23.  Like…what?!  What does that even mean?  Am I supposed to be royally pissed that this video game thinks I’m three years older than I actually am from the neck down?  (Because I totally am.) 

There are four different types of activities I can choose from.  Aerobics (I laugh out loud), balance, strength training, and yoga.  Since I’m still bitter about failing my balance test, I decide to start there.  While I scan over the various activities I am still puzzled as to how being good at balancing is going to make me have a super bangin’ bod.  I start with one that looks completely idiotic, yet proves to be unrealistically difficult.  Little Wii…or as I’m now calling her Little Brii (I found that hilarious…) is standing inside of a bubble that is floating on top of a river.  Suddenly, without warning, my bubble starts moving towards the ominous pointy rocks on the side of the river.  Shit.  Like an Asian driver, I over-correct and lean too far to the right, which causes Little Brii to smash into the opposing riverbed and burst her bubble.  What the fuck.  So I start over.  Let me tell you…this shit is so unbelievably frustrating…it’s like I can’t even slightly put pressure on my pinky toe or Little Brii dies a miserable aquatic death.  I spend literally twenty minutes trying to navigate Little Brii down this unnaturally winding river before I suddenly realize that I have spent twenty minutes leaning slightly to the left and then slightly to the right with the stiffness and rigidity of a 90 year old woman.  I feel like a total moron.  After this epic fail, something possesses me to try "soccer heading".  I had a scarring soccer experience in fourth grade that's managed to keep me on the bench for 13 years.  I'm not going to get into it but it ends with me puking up carrots onto my cleets.  Anyways, Little Brii is standing in front of a soccer net...just standing there...when out of nowhere soccer balls start flying at her.  I'm assuming the objective is to hit the soccer balls with my cranium, so I attempt to lean awkwardly left and right in time with these flying balls.  I actually end up being not that bad at this one, until I realize that I'm still just LEANING.  I switch off the TV and make a smoothie as I ponder how my newly acquired balance skills will play into my future.