Dear Fitbit

Dear Fitbit,

I wanted you for Christmas. I thought you were the one thing that would help me move more. My husband surprised me early with you. I strapped you to my wrist and wore you faithfully.

I obsessed over you. I checked you constantly. I rejoiced when I hit 10,000 steps and you congratulated me with vibrations and flashy lights. I walked around my apartment at night when I was thisclose to 10,000 steps just to have you congratulate me when I should have been sleeping while my baby was sleeping.

I sought validation in you.

I lost sleep so you would pat me on the back.

I felt like crap about myself when I failed to reach my daily goal that you set for me.

I let a leaderboard make me feel inadequate about my workouts when I shouldn’t have. My walking will never compare to my friends running marathons, and that’s ok.

When you stopped working, I got upset. Upset. I furiously emailed with your tech support because I felt lost without you. I was relieved when you were working again. I needed you.

Then you were recalled.

I was irate. How would I live without you telling me how active I was? When would your replacement be available? I didn’t have a rash from you, should I just keep you because I loved you so much?

I requested return packaging. It sat on my counter for over a week. This weekend, I dropped you in the envelope, strapped my baby in her stroller, and set out for the post office. I wasn’t even sure I was going to send you back when I left home, but I quickly realized that breaking up with you was the right thing to do.

I noticed the trees on our walk. I was more aware of my surroundings. I heard my daughter’s every giggle and we had quite the conversation on our way to the post office, all without pushing your button for validation.

I had all the validation I needed in the enjoyment of my surroundings. I didn’t need you anymore.

I got to the post office, insured the crap out of you so I don’t lose money on this deal, and that’s where our relationship ended. The postal worker threw you into a bin and off you went to the land of tainted Fitbits.

On our way home, I felt free. No longer was I focused on a number or how fast I could reach a certain number.

We stopped and goofed off.


We had lunch on a breezy patio.

This trend has continued for days. Long walks with my family without caring at all how many steps I got in.

So breaking up with you was the smartest thing I could’ve done and the fact that you’re giving people rashes was a blessing in disguise because it made me realize that I didn’t need you. I took a shower and put on sandals and a sundress, no longer feeling the pressure to be dressed for a workout so I could get that number to go higher higher higher.

I just need to move more, choose healthy food, and enjoy my surroundings without obsessing.

I’ll be patiently awaiting my refund.


Your former lover

PS- I’m down this week without you. It’s slight, but it’s movement in the right direction.

Getting myself mentally right and not obsessing over things like steps taken in a day feels good. Really good.

About these ads
This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

5 Responses to Dear Fitbit

  1. love your perspective! thanks for the post :)

  2. Staysail says:

    Breakups are hard…but they always open a new door :)

  3. J Anne says:

    Glad you broke up before you broke out with the “blessing in disguise” burn. It would have beem a love bite that could stay with you forever. That feels like how long I have been Fitbitten. Doesn’t look that great with a sundress!

  4. EC says:

    I felt the same way after I stopped using the MapMyWalk app. Freedom is a beautiful thing!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s