I roll my eyes every time Tony gushes and crushes over Dreya Weber during a workout. Isn't it enough that her glamor shots are plastered on all the P90X packaging and posters? Or that she's the only one of Tony's minions featured in the P90X supplement commercials with Mark "The Zombie" Sisson? How many times does Tony have to remind us that she's a "world-famous aerialist and gymnast" or that she "flies through the air with the greatest of ease"? Why is Dreya the only person asked to demonstrate a move before everyone else does it? Just how many P90X exercises has Tony named after her? And will he ever tire of hollering about how he thinks she's "GORGEOUS"?
As a point of comparison, all that Tony says about Bipedal Eric (not to be confused with Erik Stolhanske) is that he's "pure gristle" and that he "lives on a boat," evoking images of desiccated beef jerky and the Gorton's Fisherman.
For her part, Dreya appears to relish her status as teacher's pet. She beams when Tony heaps praise on her, and curtsies with an overly dramatic flourish when Tony gives her credit for inventing -- no, wait, introducing him to -- Three Way Lunges. While showing off during a lunge exercise in Legs & Back, Dreya tries to score even more brownie points by proposing to modify the move: "What if I push off with my heel instead of my toe?" (Thankfully, Tony was uncharacteristically dismissive. "I don't care," he says.) Even outside of P90X, Dreya comes across as pretentious; she name-drops like crazy (she's worked with Madonna! And Pink! And Britney!) and calls herself "omnisexual" (because identifying oneself as "bisexual" is too narrow and pedestrian for the "GORGEOUS DREYA WEBER").
But in the end, I have to admit that my criticisms of Dreya largely stem from jealousy. Dreya's obviously a phenomenal athlete who's managed to leverage her acting, artistic and athletic skills into a successful career in a notoriously tough industry. She's a total Renaissance woman -- and I haven't even mentioned the fact that she released two albums while performing in an early-'90s folk rock duo called Common Cents.
Granted, she comes across on film like a watered-down version of Tilda Swinton, and I'm not clamoring to rent "The Gymnast" anytime soon, but after watching Dreya's acting and aerialist reels (especially the latter), I can't help but be a little awed.