Wii would like to play... and mock you

My new Wii gaming system has an attitude. Within one hour of trying out our sparkly new Sports pack, I was mocked and belittled. My self esteem hasn't taken a hit like that in years!

What's all the fuss about? Well, there's this misleading little feature on the Wii—comes standard with any console—that rates your fitness level by three factors: speed, stamina & balance. To determine your scores, it paces you through skill games in baseball, tennis and bowling.

For the record, I've never played tennis in my life, I'm terrible at bowling, and my one foray into softball in high school—with disastrous results, mind you—did not bode well for my Wii fitness evaluation.

That didn't stop me from giving it a whirl. First up was baseball. The idea was to hit home runs, up to 10 a game. I hit none. In fact, I only connected with the ball a few times. "STRIKE!!!" began reverberating through our living room in deafening levels.

Humbled, I went on to bowling. Turns out I'm better on the Wii than I am in real life. I managed a decent showing in bowling, knocking over various spare scenarios with relative ease. My confidence boosted, I moved on to tennis.

This skill game serves 50 balls at you, with the general idea being that you should actually return them. I first attempted this sitting down. It took just a few serves to stand up. Then I began waving my remote wildly, hoping that the more swings I tried, the better the chances of hitting the ball. Instead, my character kept tripping and falling, racquet flailing at record rate. When I did connect with the ball, it usually sailed well beyond the white, "out/in" line. No line judge needed for me; it was clear I stunk.

Beaten and deflated, I waited for the results of my fitness test. Beep, beep, beep, pause... "71!"

What??? I'm 71 years old in fitness years? It couldn't be. Impossible for it to be. So I tried it again (side note here: we didn't have any characters set up, so we could keep doing the test up to six times. Normally, you're only allowed to do it once a day.).

Beep, beep, beep, pause... "81!" Holy cow I was getting older by the minute! Humiliated, I let David take a turn.

While I watched him knock homerun after homerun out of the park, I felt my heart sink with the knowledge that my already-younger-than-me husband was about to become decades younger than me in Wii fitness years. I was right. After nailing tennis and bowling well, he beeped his way to a 28—a year YOUNGER than his real-life age. Ugh.

So I made him do it again. Beep, beep, beep, pause... "29!" Seriously? His average is 28.5? Talk about making me a cougar.

I couldn't take it. I had to try again. Bowling, check. Baseball, better than last time. Tennis, improving, but I'm still terrible. Beep, beep, beep, pause... "61!" Oy vey. My average age is still 71. I'm older than my mother.

How could this happen to me? When did I lose all hand-eye coordination? It takes me back to sophomore year of high school, waiting for my turn at bat and hoping I'd at least hit the ball instead of striking out. I never was good at the ball—swing timing. And here's the Wii mocking my lack of coordination and sending me into the golden years well before my time.

Truly, the results stuck with me all week long. Be they fabricated or not, I couldn't stand the thought that I could be Bea Arthur's replacement in a Golden Girls reunion.

So tonight, when David suggested we play a few rounds, I knew I had to try, try, try again. We warmed up with a few side games—ping cup, darts and bean-bag toss (what we Midwesterners call Cornhole)—and then we got serious. We played a few games of tennis, a round of baseball (in which I got merceyed in the second inning I was so bad) and three games of bowling.

And then I said I was ready for my skill test. This time, I also had a character saved to track my progress. Baseball was first, and I was vastly improved. I hit at least five homeruns, despite my four-straight strikes at the end of the game. Then it was time for tennis. My ratio of returns and ins had improved four-fold, and I was feeling good. Plus, I knew I had bowling to look forward to—my ace in the hole, so to speak. Bowling exceeded my expectations, so I anxiously awaited the beeping to begin.

Beep, beep, beep, pause..."39!!!!!!" AMEN! I'm finally back in the same decade and my real-life age. I feel rejuvinated, alive, YOUNG.

Now I'm addicted. I must improve my age. I must practice my timing. I must learn how to return tennis balls when they're center court. I must practice my 7–10 split. I will not be a cougar any more. I can feel my inner kitten just crying to come out.

I know it all sounds like a bunch of foolishness. But you just wait. Try out the Wii for yourself and see if you're not humiliated when it beeps a few decades older than your inner child. Then we'll see who's talking crazy.