Wearable technology is 🔥 right now. From watches to clips, fitness trackers are on the rise and are even becoming a bit of a fashion statement (at least that’s what I’ve been telling myself because I can’t afford a Michael Kors…) But as more people are jumping on board and strapping themselves with this new trend, I’m over here dying to find out if I’m the only one who has fallen out of love with counting my steps.
I’d say for the past two years, I’ve been living with a FitBit permanently attached to my body. I kicked off the craze with the adorable, non-committal Zip, which is super discreet and can be worn on your bra strap. I wore that lil gadget every day until it eventually started falling apart on me. But as my love for counting steps grew, I wanted something more durable, more accurate, and showed off even more features. Therefore in January of this year, I forked up some dolla bills and spoiled myself with the Charge HR. This fancy watch tracks your heart rate, hours of sleep, and more accurately records each step you take. And having such a nifty upgrade truly got me in gear. Throughout 2016, my step game was at it’s prime, my numbers were soaring, and I was kind of a big deal on my local FitBit leaderboard. 😜
As silly as it might seem, my love for my FitBit inevitably turned into a mild obsession. Whenever I took a shower, I would place my FitBit within arm’s length of the tub, so I made sure not to take a single unrecorded step. Every day, I religiously met my step goals and if I was having an off day and missed my mark, I would pace around my living room at night to make sure I checked them off (this drove my boyfriend absolutely crazy and admittedly, I did look like a Richard Simmons stepping fool.) So many of my FitBit friends would applaud me for my off-the-chart steps, joking that they would never be able to catch me. I found it all harmless fun and I even felt an odd sense of personal achievement from racking up FitBit badges on the regular.
Well about a month ago, I took a weekend vacation to Charleston, when I absent-mindedly forgot to pack my charger. So ofcourse my FitBit’s battery died and I was frozen in time. I didn’t have any motivation to get out and go for a run, because I derangedly forgot that exercise still counts even if it’s not being tracked… But wanna know the worst part of all? My mood literally took a plunge and I was yearning to somehow alert my FitBit friends, “Hey guys, I promise I wasn’t ridiculously lazy today! The battery just died!” … now that’s pretty sad.
Embarrassingly enough, this same incident had to go down about two more times before I realized I’d lost my marbles. But thankfully by the third dead battery, my heart didn’t drop in my stomach quite like it did in the past. In fact, this time around, reality finally sunk in that I was a slave to my FitBit. And that is when I made the noble decision to retire it to the dark depths of my underwear drawer.
My wrist has felt pretty naked over the last few weeks, and I can’t even tell you how many times I’ve glanced down, anxiously hoping for a 5-digit step count. But instead, all I find is a pretty gnarly tanline, paired with an overwhelming sense of relief that I stopped caring so much.
There’s no denying that wearing a device to track your daily steps can be a great tool for any weight-loss journey. In all fairness, my FitBit definitely got me up and moving at times when I would otherwise be lounging on the couch (prime example: my Richard Simmons evening routine). But for me, I found peace when I left those numbers in my drawer, enjoying my daily exercise without answering to how many steps I squeezed in.
Total respect for a winning product, FitBit, but turns out you’re just not for me.