|The Penguin March Badge|
No I’m not a girl scout. Fuck, have you even read my blog?
I’m the proud owner of a FitBit physical activity/fitness tracker. One of the thousands given as gifts this past Christmas. It tracks the steps you take, the stairs you climb, even your sleep. It sends emails to keep you motivated, and emails little badges when you reach a milestone. My brother Boris and his wife Natasha have one as well. My sister P.I.T.A. does not. She says she ‘doesn’t like to be tied down’. That’s a pity for her.
|The FitBit One|
My competitive nature kicked in. Now I’m hopping around while cooking dinner. Bringing the laundry down the steps a piece at a time. Taking the dogs for such long walks that Frank the Boston starts to sniff every piece of dead grass while giving me ‘are you fucking kidding me’ looks.
The other day I got an email from my FitBit. The email said that I if I walk another 1,500 steps, I’d make ‘my’ goal of 10,000 steps. I sat there for a minute, my brain actually contemplating doing as told. I mean, it’s only 1,500 steps. Easy, right? But when did 10,000 become ‘MY’ goal? If it were that easy, then why didn’t I already have it done? I work hard, dance around my desk like Richard Simmons chasing Chris Hemsworth (cuz he's so dreamy) to get steps in. I take the stairs instead of the elevator (thankfully the building is only four floors). If I wasn’t so exhausted from constantly moving around like a god damned fire walker, I would have walked those extra steps already! Where’s the appreciation for the effort I already put in? Where’s the love now FitBit buddy? That email boarders on harassment! Are you heckling me FitBit ol’pal? I ignored the FitBit.
Thirty minutes later it sends me another email. It read, ‘I know you read my email A/I/K/E’ (for those who do not know, AIKE is the acronym for Assume I Know Everything). Those 1,500 steps aren’t going to walk themselves.’ Huh. When did we go on a first name basis? Wait, walk themselves? Oh that’s funny FitBit, you’re a regular laugh riot. That was so God damned funny, it gave me cancer! I ignored that email too. No glorified pedometer is going to intimidate me! I took the damned thing off and left it on the table.
The phone in my pocket vibrated. It was another FitBit email. It read ‘You know, if you put the same effort into those steps that you put into placing me on the table, you would have exceeded your goal. I won’t be ignored A/I/K/E. Want some incentive? What’s that delicious odor coming from your kitchen? Gee, have you seen Frank lately?’…
I sat bolt upright in my bed. The FitBit on my wrist that was tracking my sleep was gently vibrating to wake me up. (Yes, it has an alarm too! But can it julienne potatoes in the airlock of the space station while doing the macarena?) Frank was gently snoring on his pillow. I grabbed my phone. I had a new badge with a message. It was the 'No Slackers' badge. The message read, 'It was only a dream...this time!!!!!"
|The No Slackers Badge|