My Dog Ate My FitBit

Yes, dear Lil Schroed chomped down on my pedometer on Tuesday. Munchity munch munch. While the darn thing was clipped to my shorts!

Apparently, personal electronic devices are quite yummy. That, or the precious canine was attempting to send me a message about my priorities. Or, I guess, he was bored of sitting in my lap (behaving well, ostensibly) and was intrigued by the flashy plastic green thing. Regardless, I haven't been able to measure my steps for two days now. This is disconcerting. And I'm disconcerted about being disconcerted about such a minor mishap.

So what I've realized is that I have come to rely heavily on this device for measuring my exercise. I know, I know--that is probably the goal of FitBit's marketing team: to make people rely on the device rather than themselves to feel satisfied about meeting their exercise and health goals. Well, mission accomplished. When I go outside to take Lil Schroed for a walk, I feel like my efforts don't even count! I may as well have lounged in front of the tube all day eating Doritos.

My ability to monitor my own effort and exhaustion has vanished. FitBit has stolen my self-regulation, robbed me of whatever internal wisdom I still possessed. Therefore, FitBit = Vampire. I give them money, I hand over my self-regulation, I develop a need for something I don't need, and the more I use the thing, the more I think that I have to use it. Because if I don't measure my steps, I didn't take them; and if I didn't take them, I can't calculate my weekly totals; and if I can't calculate those totals, I can't compete with my friends; and if I can't compete, then how am I ever to know if I am getting enough exercise, whatever "enough" is? I've voluntarily relinquished all ability to validate my own efforts.

So what am I going to do now? Well, I've already ordered a replacement. Do you want to order one, too, and be my friend?