When it comes to exercise, I go through stages. I get really gung-ho and then after a while I give the whole thing a heave-ho. But as I grow older I realize the necessity of being consistent with working out, because I have an almost irrational fear of arms that flap like wings while waving in a tank top. But money is tight and the gym is just a little too far, and frankly, I don’t see the point in having shower, brush my teeth and comb my hair to only become disheveled in some frenetic Tai Bo-hip hop-kick boxing-thingamajig workout class. So that’s why I bought a Wii Fit. Yes, there’s a chunk of money to pay up front, but I figure it will pay for itself and be well worth the price if I can prevent myself from resembling a flying squirrel.

Truth be told, I like working out in my own home. It’s fun to work up a sweat and drink a beer without anyone looking at you sideways.

But…here’s my problem. The virtual trainer–I think her name is Maya–is a bit of a hard ass. After careful review of my Fitness Challenge scores, she has ordered me to engage in her personalized program three days a week: Monday, Wednesday and Friday for 45 minutes. And if I don’t make it with bells on, well, she has some choice words for me! She doesn’t yell or anything; she takes a more passive aggressive approach to keep me in line. She says things like, “Hi! I missed you yesterday. I think you would really feel better if you got off your ass and turned the game on at least once a week.” Okay, I made up that last part. But, it’s kind of like that.

So here it is Friday, and I missed my Monday and Wednesday workout, so I know Maya’s going to have some smart-ass remark about me not taking personal responsibility for my fitness goals, blah blah blah. I almost feel like not working out at all, you know, just to spite her.