Stepping over candy cane wrappers and remnants of a half-eaten gingerbread house, The Big Guy cautiously approached the blue Snuggie slumped on the couch. Scenes from “It’s a Wonderful Life” flashed across the television, the sound muted.
“It’s time,” he said, prying a glass of eggnog from my hand.
“I’ve called Weight Watchers. They’ve dusted off your scales.”
Most people start New Year’s weight loss programs with personal resolve, but for me, it takes family intervention. That and a LoJack on the refrigerator. Honestly, what’s the fuss over five, 10, or 50 extra pounds? It’s kind of flattering when someone asks, “When are you due?” Sure beats the heck out “How’s that AARP card working for you?” Besides, maternity pants are a whole lot more fashionable these days.
After scarfing down the last of the peppermint bark, I got off the couch and plugged in the Wii Fit game the kids gave me last Mother’s Day. There’s no better way of saying “I love you mom” than giving her a gift that spells “F-A-T.”
Actually, Wii Fit is pretty cool. It’s interactive and you get to select and name your own virtual training partner, called a Mii. You can count on your Mii for a little pick-me-up. I named mine “Minnie Barr.”
The first step was measuring weight, balance, strength and flexibility while my Minnie Mii chimed in with instruction and opinion. It’s like hearing a teen voice coming from the back seat after his first week of Driver’s Ed. At least Minnie doesn’t scream “We’re gonna die” and stick her head between her legs.
I stepped on the scale. Minnie smiled as she waited for my weight to appear. I slurped down a milkshake. A number flashed and Minnie twirled around, threw her hands in the air, and then fell to the ground screeching, “OMG.” Great. Wii Fit was created by a 13-year-old girl. After receiving mouth-to-screen resuscitation, Minnie revealed my “fitness” age.
“Good luck with those Medicare forms,” she said. “And lay off the shakes.” At least she didn’t roll her eyes.
Next, I started a workout. With each step, stretch, groan, grunt and moan, Minnie was there, offering encouragement.
“Stay with it.”
“You can do it.”
“It can’t be that difficult.”
“You’ve got to be kidding!”
“Do you want red or white?”
After tossing Minnie and the rest of the Wii Fit into the trash, I did what I do every year—hopped back on the couch and waited for New Year’s.