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Miniature Fitness Trainers

   
 In yet another effort to get fit and get a step closer to those jeans I haven’t been able to wear in five years, I bought the Wii Fit program. It weighs you, analyzes your body fat, creates a plan of wellness and makes the process fun. In the beginning, I would get up each morning to have it greet me with a pleasant hello and tell me how well I was proceeding. After a weekend of Mexican food and delicate chocolates, I was informed that I gained four pounds and my Wii Character changed to a pudgier edition of me. How dare they! I paid $86 for a machine to tell me I was out of control and fat.
    My commitment to the program disappeared immediately. After a few months, I decided to give it another try. It seems that now the scale no longer works right. I never know if I'm going to weigh 3 pounds or 472 pounds. It says I lost 62 pounds since yesterday. Motivational, yes - but scary. Every time the scale goes up, my character gets pudgy and when it drops, I get skinny. My character now looks mal-nourished with that look of “I want a cheeseburger” in her eyes. I do not look like that. 
    To add to my workout - my kids created all of these tiny Wii characters to work out with me. My kids are represented, as well as a character of my first boyfriend they found in a yearbook (they found humor in that). Twisted kids! I can also work out with Brad Pitt, Jesus, the mean lady from work, and Einstein. Einstein is my favorite. I logged in as the mean lady from work and let her fail at her workouts - that way her scores are low. Now, I kick her butt every time I do downhill skiing or walk the tight rope. I do enjoy hula hooping with Jesus. We rock!
    Everyone should try it. I do well for a while and then it tells me I gained 120 lbs overnight. It’s hard to recover from that. My daughter, who is a state gymnastic champion, offered to be my personal trainer. She is ten years old, 4 feet tall and has the arm muscles of a Marine. Last weekend was Easter and after an entire weekend of hams and pies and dyed eggs, I was prepared to don the fat pants and stretch out on the couch. But no… my pint-sized trainer pushed me into working out against my will. Armed with pastel colored fingertips and ten pound weights, we began. As she was hanging by one hand from a chin up bar, she’s shouting words of encouragement… ”Come on girlfriend, give me two more.” Okay – my name is not girlfriend! What will I do with this child? She’s working me to death. While I do look at each experience as a chance to learn something new, I have discovered that my daughter would make a good drill sergeant and that I have something on my arms, I think, called a Pec Fly Deltoid. I thought those were mints you get on the airplane. My tiny trainer has been keeping a journal of our progress together and has filled in her side and mine. Her side of the journal reads like this: 100 sit-ups – Feel Great – 10 one handed chin-ups - My hair looks fantastic! My side of the journal reads like this: Pants falling down, Feels like ten bucks, arms burning, laying on floor. The Wii Fit characters were so much easier to work out with – including the mean lady. Do you suppose Einstein and Jesus miss me?

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