Remember this shit? I know the intentions were to get couch potato kids like myself of our asses, but I'm beginning to think it played a major role in my eventual insecurities. Just as I was becoming aware that I should never be happy with my weight (around the ripe old age of 8), my parents gave me the entire fucking line of Get In Shape Girl products for my birthday. In an act of defiance (and utter laziness) I never once worked out with the stuff. I used the batons to sword-fight with my sister and used the ribbons as a lasso to grab the remote control.

Send an email to Tracie, the author of this post, at tracie@jezebel.com.