By Jeff Mullin, Senior Writer

I live with a nag.

No, not my bride. In fact she regularly gets nagged at too.

This nagger is not a she or a he, or even a thee, but a Wii.

Wiis are Nintendo systems that have turned senior citizens all across the nation into inveterate gamers.

Thanks to the system’s unique remote wireless controllers, bowling, tennis and even boxing have become regular competitive events for even those confined to wheelchairs or constrained by walkers.

Even my wife, who was decidedly not interested in video games before she bought me a Wii for Christmas, has gotten hooked on Wii bowling. She propels the virtual ball down the virtual lane with much the same motion she uses in real bowling, without the rented shoes, of course. For the record she regularly kicks my virtual butt.

It wasn’t long before we decided to branch out. We thus acquired a Wii fit, an exercise program involving a balance board that connects wirelessly to the base unit.

That’s when the nagging began.

After hitting the switch, you are prompted to step onto the balance board, upon which the infernal thing responds with a surprised and somewhat pained “ooh.”

In my case, the thing yells “one at a time, buddy,” and “tell your fat brother to get off.”

Each person using the Wii builds their own avatar, known as a Mii. Mine looks nothing like me. It has a full head of hair, for one thing. My wife’s, on the other hand, could fill in for her in any social setting. With her ever-present big smile, it is her electronic spitting image.

At any rate, when you first begin Wii fit you are asked to tell the thing your height. It then calculates your weight and body mass index, or BMI.

So I gave it my height and waited, while my Mii stood patiently on the screen in front of me, waiting, too. Pretty soon the BMI scale came to a stop and the thing blurted “that’s overweight,” in a decidedly accusatory tone.

I told it to shut up.

At the same time, my Mii suddenly gained a roll of fat around his middle. I told him to shut up, too.

The infernal thing then tells you your weight and asks you your age. It then puts you through a series of balance tests and, using your age, weight, BMI and balance scores, gives you your Wii age, which reflects your level of fitness.

My goal is to get mine under 137.

You then begin your training. The Wii fit offers a series of exercises, including strength training, yoga, aerobic exercises and balance games.

My trainer is an earnest, well-muscled young man with a small pony tail. I call him Fred. He guides me through all my exercises, offering encouragement and, occasionally, stating the obvious, telling me a particular exercise “(fill in the blank) is not your strong suit,” or “You’re pretty shaky.” Yeah, and you’re an electronic pain in the butt, too.

There’s a female trainer as well, but my bride tells me she’s just as bad, and her exercise togs don’t cover her flat abs and little electronic navel.

Actually the system is great. The thing keeps track of how many minutes you’ve worked out and your level of success on each exercise. You can do a full range of yoga poses, although my downward facing dog looks like a flea-bitten cur, and my warrior more closely resembles a conscientious objector.

My worst moments come during strength training, when I’m trying to do pushups in time with Fred. I’m straining, sweating and usually a couple of pushups behind, while he’s imploring me to “Don’t give up.” I hate him.

It is when you miss a day of exercise the nagging really starts. “Too busy to exercise yesterday?” The stupid thing asks. Yeah, what’s it to you? Some of us have jobs, you know.

Then there are the days you will gain a pound or two. So it will ask you if you know the reasons you have put on weight, then lecture about whatever reason you select. I am still looking for the option, “None of your damn business,” but have yet to find it.

For aerobics you can do rhythmic stepping, twirl virtual Hula Hoops and even run, jogging in place as your Mii runs over bridges, through valleys and past waterfalls.

The best part are the balance games. You can float in a bubble down a river, direct multi-colored balls into holes in fake wooden tables and even pretend to be a penguin catching fish on the ice floe, complete with your Mii in a penguin suit. It’s a good look for me, if I do say so myself.

My favorites are slalom skiing, ski jumping and soccer. The soccer game involves directing your Mii to head soccer balls all the while trying to dodge flying objects like shoes, a la George Bush in Iraq.

The skiing game sends your hurtling down an alpine mountain weaving in and out of gates like an Olympic skier. It’s all the fun without the frostbite.

Ski jumping involves leaning forward on the board with your knees bent so your Mii picks up speed down the run, then straightening up at just the right moment to propel your avatar through the air down the hill. Failing to straighten your knees at the proper time will send you over the jump and down the hill, rolling up into a giant snowball. I keep seeing the old “Thrill of victory, agony of defeat,” guy from “Wide World of Sports,” in my mind’s eye.

So we both spend time regularly running, sweating, leaning, schussing, jumping, bending and stretching, all in front of our living room TV, which is far better than simply vegging out in front of said TV — even with the nagging.

Mullin is senior writer of the News & Eagle.