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In which Nintendo calls us old AND fat

The day it came on the market in 2006, and through cravenly nepotistic means, Michael had a Wii. In the two years since, we’ve both enjoyed the novelty, silliness and challenge of the games, and if I had to describe the entire Wii system in one word, that word would be “adorable.”

But you, Wii Fit, are an ASSHOLE.

Sure, your packaging and design continue to trend a la our spare and beloved Apple products, and you supply us with hot, encouraging trainers, ridiculously precious audiences (I especially like the bears that fret over my tightrope walk), and ingeniously demanding tasks. You are indisputably fun, and we would be much more likely to enjoy your assets if we all hadn’t gotten off on the wrong foot, and I’m not referring to the one I broke in two places 18 months ago that still makes me crap over like a felled pine during Tree Pose.

Specifically, I’m referring to the Body Test. We were braced for the worst, because Mike’s barely out of winter hibernation and I treat the gym like a library with free childcare, but seriously, did you have to be such a prick about it? For instance, was it necessary to charm me with the news that my BMI is, at 19.2, ATHLETE-GRADE (apparently channel-surfing DOES slim and tone!), only to then smirk that my Wii Fit Age was a horrifying 42?

Did you honestly have to analyze Mike’s BMI, then inflate his Mii torso like a balloon snapped to a helium tank and sing, “BwwooooOOOOOOP!!!,” making me fall to the floor laughing and Mike’s face fall to China?

Because I’m detecting a cruel streak, Wii Fit. It’s as though you know Michael takes much pleasure in our age difference and denouncing me as a cradle robber, and I enjoy letting him. So telling him he was physically 61 YEARS OLD — what the fuck, Fit? Must we reevaluate our entire relationship based on your capricious analysis? Because if so, I’d like to request some additional questions for us beyond birth date and height when determining our stats. Say, whether I am still carded AT LEAST ONCE A WEEK. Or whether Mike’s BMI allows for his meaty, succulent stallion thighs. Or if his “Wii Fit Age” factors in his INSATIABLE COCK, because I have had VIBRATORS that needed more down time, and there is just nothing about that insta-rection that’s ready to cash in a 401K and Segway off to Sun City.

Finally, with the morphed Miis… Clever, Wii, but Mike took one look at our new Miis standing side-by-side and sighed, “Jesus, it’s like the fucking ‘King of Queens’…”

Now we’re both afraid of you, AND anxious to please you, nefarious Wii Fit. And until you get my virtual age under 40 where it properly belongs, I’m gonna continue to talk smack of you in public while blindly obeying you in private.

5 Comments

  • Em.

    July 13, 2008 at 3:43 pm

    This is enough to me me decide to not get Wii Fit…

    And to continue to eat my Baked Layes with French Onion Dip while watching Doctor Who….

    Crunch Crunch.
    please Pass the Diet Dr. Pepper.
    No, those aren’t control tops- get out of my underwear drawer.

    Reply
  • Amanda

    July 14, 2008 at 8:24 am

    For some masochistic reason, my desire for a Wii fit is still not staunched.

    Thank you for the great laugh & the slight pang of jealousy over the lover man you possess.

    Reply
  • valerie

    July 20, 2008 at 4:57 pm

    OH, quit your belly-achin’, you 30-something, you! You’ll see just how wonderful the 40s are soon enough. Can’t wait to hate my Wii Fit!
    (Oh, and TMI on Michael’s anatomy…)

    Reply

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