Who doesn’t love a new toy? Even as an adult, there are certain things that you wish for that you know really isn’t going to go the long haul, but you want it anyway. You’re sure this new toy is exactly what you want, and that you will always use it. And so begins my journey with my Fitbit.
A Fitbit is like a watch that you wear on your wrist, but it’s evil. It reminds you of what you should do, athletically, and what you have not done. I know my family really wants me to get/stay/think/move into shape. They have high hopes. Apparently, they all are in shape and I’m not. Thank goodness I have the ability to mentally block them out.
I was given one at Christmas—it’s now August. Anything that has multiple settings is not what I want to tangle with. This was not the toy for me right out of the box. OK, I’ll give it bonus points for looking really nice…sleek and black. From there on, it’s not my friend.
Once it’s charged, you’re ready to be reminded of everything that you will be doing that day that is not right. Money was actually exchanged to tell you this. My kids do it for free.
After I read the IKEA-style instructions, and 19 minutes of trying to figure out how to get two little rubber nipples into two little openings on the strap, my husband came over and with a little sigh, corrected it immediately. Now who would have known to put some Vaseline on the two bumps to make them slide easily into the openings on the band, I ask you? There was nothing in the picture book telling me to do that.
It’s actually cute. My model tells you the date, the time, how many steps you’ve taken, how many miles that translates into and your heart rate. It does this accurately because you have to enter your height, weight and age. Already I’m sorry I didn’t lie about all of those numbers. I like the fact that I have to smack the top of it to get it to give me info that it has calculated. It reminds me of being a mother and smacking the top of the kids’ heads while asking them to do something.
According to its algorithm, I’m supposed to do 10,000 steps a day. I’m still laughing. And, if I don’t move within a certain time period it beeps at me. This is when I really want to smack it.
After a couple of days of wearing it, and realizing that 10,000 steps a day is not in my realm of reality, I’ve gotten used to it. OK, so sometimes it’s on upside down and I have to contort my wrist to see what time it is, but I’m working on it. I think there’s a problem with this evil thing; I think the algorithm is skewed because with all the shopping I do, I’m sure I’m doing well over 10,000 steps a day. I’m very sure. It adamantly disagrees.