My Fitness Tracker is The Devil

Hey, you guys!

Quick confession: I’m one of those people who used to have/still struggles with/occasionally kicks the ass of an eating disorder. I used to compulsively weigh myself and take my measurements several times daily. It was like I was looking for proof that the Chipotle burrito I’d annihilated was taking root in my hips and thighs, the beans forming some sort of super-cellulite that smelled faintly like the end of that lovely rhyme about legumes.

You know what I’m saying.

Over the years, my need to weigh myself several times a day has fallen to the weigh-side (ugh, Dad Pun). Then I go shopping at Target and I stare at the scales for twenty minutes until I realize I’ve been staring at the scales for twenty whole minutes and I run away. Far, far away. And fast, because it burns more calories.

Lately, I’ve even toned down how often I measure myself. I really only do that now to see if I’m getting #swole because I want to beat my mom in an arm wrestle and FOR FUCK’S SAKE THE WOMAN IS FIFTY-FIVE AND I GO TO THE GYM LIKE FIVE DAYS A WEEK HOW CAN I NOT BEAT HER YET?

It makes me mad.

For a Christmas present (that ended up not arriving until April because the company is hilariously bad at what they do, minus customer service) I received a Jawbone UP3. It’s like a shittier-working, prettier-looking version of a fitbit. Kind of like how a Kardashian is a shittier-working, prettier-looking human that manages to make money for only being good at being okay looking. I don’t like to insult women, but the Kardashians are an exception because I think all they stand for is detrimental towards any girl hitting/entering/leaving puberty. Minus Caitlyn Jenner. That bitch is solid gold awesome.

Sometimes my tracker will lose like 2,000 steps for no reason other than to drive me bananas. A fitness tracker is supposed to do all the work for me, so I don’t have to worry about being active. It TRACKS how much I move, and I rely on it to tell me that I’m not the laziest motherfucker around.

When I received it in early April, one of the first things I started doing was counting my steps. That’s right, you guys. I got a fitness tracker, a thing that’s supposed to count my steps for me, and I would take atreyu for a four-mile walk and count my steps the ENTIRE time.

So when it malfunctions and I take the pups for a walk around my complex, I know that from the door to my condo to the entrance to the parking lot of the fitness center it’s 700 steps. I know a lap around the lake to where I loop around and go backwards is 400 steps. I know my normal morning walk with Atreyu around the complex is 1300 steps and if I add an extra lap and then leave the complex and walk a few blocks in a certain direction I will get a total of 3300 steps. I don’t stop my walks until I end at a 100 or a 50, because obviously.

I know this because sometimes, SOMETIMES, my fitness tracker doesn’t know it. And I like to be one hundred percent sure.

I also like to be 100% crazy, apparently. Ah, well, such is life.