My Little Fitbit

...Family and I had gathered for my birthday last September. Cards were exchanged (many with the same tired fat jokes normally found in birthday cards; but the thought was there).

Then came the gifts.

What else would a thirty-six year old, single guy with no birthday gift list open but gift cards to be redeemed for physical belongings later? (ALWAYS great gifts, mind you). I unwrapped a lucrative GameStop gift card, thanked the gifters, and was greeted by...

"Yeah; we were going to get you a FitBit; but you, like, already wear a watch; sohhhhhhhh...yeah."

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My truth. THE truth about my body image (and, therefore, my SELF image) ever since the first seven years of my life when I used to be called disgustingly THIN.

It's not that I don't work out or go for walks. It's not like I don't watch what I eat. ("This is food. It looks good. Now it's going in my mouth...") I'm just...husky/big-boned/a-lot-more-to-love...fat. It's straight, it's to the point, and it's perfectly acceptable when I say it (providing that I'm talking about myself).

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Christmas came and it was time for a young, single adult to announce the preferred Christmas list (Is it just me; or was this a lot easier when I was five and unwrapping Masters of the Universe, G.I. Joe, Thundercats, and Real Ghostbusters figures; with the red letter Christmas being when I received the NES?). Anyway, this wasn't the case anymore and I only had ONE redletter Christmas Gift in mind for 2020.

It was time to give my sister a call and revisit the FitBit conversation...

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Christmas Eve came and, amidst the collection of brand now Grand Valley gear ("R U A LAKER?/HELL YEAH!"), and the DVD of Rocky and Bullwinkle (I'm also a vintage animation nerd), what should I unwrap but THE FITBIT! (Oh; and then boxes of chocolate, two different hot cocoa mixes, two bags of Strawberry bonbons, and a thing of cashews).

Anyway, my new FitBit Journey was about to begin...

THE SETUP

"Meh; it's just a downloadable app and syncing with your new Fitbit..."

Thank goodness for remedial passabilities with technology.

Anyway, I got situated with my new very expensive steptracker and went to work on Day 1 of being a proud owner. I stepped; it tracked. (...and, to its knowledge, I had been a motionless lump of clay until approximately 12:00, December 25, 2020).

My body image sort of fit the misconception; and not much beyond maybe 90% of my clothes closet. Off to my aunt and uncle's for dinner...(Protip: "Determine to begin your new Fitbit journey AFTER Christmas Eve and Christmas Dinners. ...And, to be on the safe side, after celebrating NEW YEARS as well.")

"BZZZZZT!"

...There we were at my aunt and uncle's, watching part of the game just before dinner. I was settled into the couch as small talk with everyone ELSE happened around me when...

"BZZZZZZT!"

...I jumped. Was my brand new FitBit alive? Was it in the process of short-circuiting and, tragically, being alive no more whilst attached to my wrist?

I glanced down and discovered a handy little message.

"...100 more steps needed."

Really; is that all??? I excused myself, left one room for another, paced and...

"BZZZZZZZT!"

...I almost belted out "We Are the Champions." It was time to assemble for dinner instead.

An hour later, in the midst of family dinner...

"BZZZZT!"

...I couldn't help it I jumped in my seat again and, naturally, looked to my wrist.

"50 Steps needed."

What is this; it said I was DONE? Anyway...

I excused myself from an inner seat amidst glares of disapproval for the fact that I, in fact, WAS capable of lifting my frame out of a chair and went for another jaunt around the house.

"BZZZZT!"

Done.

Dinner finished and dessert was presented.

(Polite Whisper): "PSST; pardon my interruption but..."

(Actual FitBit message): "BZZZZT!/80 STEPS NEEDED!"

From 100 to 50 to 80. Mr(s). Fitbit (more on this later...) was BERSERK! I got up AGAIN and paced AGAIN amidst the stairs of my family as if I had just landed from a very heavy set planet. I walked away, feeling like I was wearing a wrist communicator ("TRICERATOPS!" [Guy in glasses here; though not nearly as studied as David Yost's most notable television character].)

Anyway, Mr(s). FitBit was calling me away on an emergency, I made a lame excuse, and paced to a hiding place again. ("This looks like a job for WALKING!"/"By the POWER of FITBIT!/I HAVE TO MOVE!")

This was Christmas Day. Since then, I've figured out that Mr(s). FitBit measures steps BY THE HOUR and family (even extended family) has come to understand my spotaneous need to get up and go on occasion.

"STEPPING OUT"

I've always enjoyed walking; it's my favorite exercise (for instance, come Summer, I will quite often "walk to my favorite eating establishment, kindly pack in at least 5x as many calories as walking there burned off, then walk...to another eating establishment for sugary liquid calories.")

Something about a step tracker on my wrist DOES motivate me to do better about walking around THE HOUSE or walking through the neighborhood a little more often as well. After all, as I've learned, I need to walk 250 steps per hour during "active hours" (and satisfying active hours of movement ONCE does not passify Mr[s]. FitBit for the duration of the day).

"WATER LOGGED."

Those sodas that I eluded to earlier; I'm also inspired to convert SOME of those back to waters; 64 OZs a day; AND record them in the app. It's like tracking my steps and I feel like I've ACCOMPLISHED something to type in my water intake.

"FOODIES"

Track my steps: "Alright; let's do this, FITBIT! I'm feeling like the Flash's cousin with the 3-4 mile per hour gait!"

Log water: "Oh, wow; that...you know, that doesn't taste THAT bad. And now I've accomplished something. Let's keep this up, FitBit."

Logging calories from food: "Alright, you listen here, FitBitCH...arge 4; now, I'm feeling personally CYBER-JUDGED."

If everything about the FitBit/fitness journey was easy, I'd have figured it out long ago. However, I don't have to like logging my calories for my eyeballs to peruse and to suspend in the app; it is a useful tool in the app. And I have already surpassed two weight loss goals (and never went OVER them again. I AM constantly lingering around the third goal that I had previously accomplished, only to find that I am slightly over it again, as I seek my FOURTH weight loss goal).

"WHALE-MAN"

(Aqua Man was taken; and, well, is not me)

FitBit can ALSO be used to track OTHER exercises rather than taking steps (stair climbing/brisk walking/running/jogging/treadmills/swimming).

I've always enjoyed swimming; NOW, I just enjoy more often by setting Mr(s.) FitBit (who is, thankfully, waterproof) to track my swims through the gym's pool.

In speaking of...

"THINGS YOU SHOULD NEVER SAY OUT LOUD TO YOUR NEW FITBIT (BUT WHEN YOU DO SO ANYWAY, MAKE SURE THAT YOU HAVE TWO WITNESSES THERE TO UNDERSTAND THE CONTEXT)...

"Okay, FitBit, good job; let's go in the Locker Room, have our shower and get you toweled off..."

Yes; I said this (OUT LOUD) to the FitBit upon bringing it with me out of the pool for its inaugural experimental swim with me, only to discover that it had survived.

It wouldn't be the last time that I have spoken to "Mr(s). FitBit" and it won't be the last (I still get a jump-scare everytime it starts insistently buzzing on my wrist, as it does this to announce Zone Minutes, to say that I need more steps, to inform me when I've gotten 10000 steps, to tell me that I have a phone call, to tell me that "The Republican Party" [who may or may not actually be so] is texting me for more money again, etc.)

Okay; I promised to explain "Mr(s). FitBit." Long story short, I've also been single my entire life; I feel like I've got a good workout partner now to spend a lot of moments with. Oh, and I'm a purist; if the FitBit is going to continue to accompany me to the gym locker room, let alone to bed to track my sleep for me (one MORE function), THEN, it's going to be a "Mr" until further notice.

Thanks for reading.

*Bits and pieces of this COULD be read as body-shaming. They are intended as self-reflective humor. Otherwise, I would NEVER, for instance, say some of those about someone ELSE. If you find yourself offended anyway, I do apologize for the misunderstanding.*

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