Hey Fitbit, we got to talk. Girl, you need to quit your nagging. If I'm finally sitting, leave me be. And the reminders to eat? Are you kidding?
Health Humor SPM/MM

An Open Letter to My Fitbit

Hey Fitbit, we got to talk. Girl, you need to quit your nagging. If I'm finally sitting, leave me be. And the reminders to eat? Are you kidding?

By Jacqueline Miller of Boogers Abroad

Dear Fitbit,

We’ve been together for what? About one year now. Little fitness tracker on my wrist, we need to have a chat.

First, please stop asking me if I want to “take a stroll.” In all this time, have you ever known me to stroll? I need to wrangle two wild children, gather dirty socks, clean up dog pee, pay the bills, figure out where I left my phone, write an article, chicken scratch a grocery list and wade through a boatload of laundry.

If you came to this relationship thinking I was a strolling kind of gal, honey, you are in the wrong family.

Perhaps you’re waiting for me to engage in a leisurely, midday constitutional, parasol in hand. In reality, you’re much more likely to gather up 1,000 steps during the morning rush to school as I frantically search for my keys on every surface of my home, dig through multiple purses and ransack every coat pocket I come across.

Do you see anyone around here taking a stroll? Anyone?

And while we’re on this topic, I really gotta tell you: I don’t find it cute when you demand that I feed you. Little Fitbit, I’ve got enough folks to feed around here, and you ain’t one of them.

Come on, you’ve sprinted up and down the grocery store aisles with me three different times this week alone. You were right there when I lugged the groceries through the parking lot and up the steps to my kitchen. Plus, how could you forget that you and I have already been back and forth to the pantry, feeding the small humans and rowdy puppy, about 600 times today alone?

Seriously, ask me to feed you again, and I might just banish you to timeout or, perhaps, even the garbage disposal!

While we’re having this little heart to heart, I should also mention that you need to quit bugging me to squeeze in (fill in the number of steps) before the hour concludes. Or nagging me to take (however many) more steps to reach my goal for the day.

You know how rare it is that I get to sit still. If I’m actually enjoying a solitary moment of peace and quiet, your little vibrations on my wrist aren’t going to be enough to drag my tired butt off the couch. In fact, needling me while I’m beyond exhausted just might force me to toss you into the fireplace.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not giving up on us completely. I haven’t decided to kick you to the curb just yet.

Come on, remember all those steps I took yesterday? Please tell me you remember. Keeping track of my steps is, like, your core job function.

I guess what I’m trying to say is: Girl, you need to quit hounding me. I. Got. This.

Love,

Jacqueline

PS. I do appreciate the fabulous fireworks! That little party on my wrist, you can keep those coming. In fact, that just made your nagging a little more bearable.

*******

About the Author

Jacqueline Miller is the lone female in a house full of guys. She travels freakishly light and can balance two kids on her Dutch bicycle. Her recent articles appear in Scary Mommy, Her View From Home and Grown & Flown, and she’s working on a book about her three years in the Netherlands. If you enjoyed this, you can follow her at www.boogersabroad.com and https://www.facebook.com/boogersabroad.