I’ve updated my Facebook status to show I’m in a new relationship. This will be news to The Husband but that’s his fault. He’s seen me in these past few weeks being distracted, checking updates on my phone, jumping up to leave the room when I get a notice…
I got a Fitbit for Christmas. And just like with Ricky Hildebrand in the 6th grade, I am a slave to this thing.
I was recently on a plane and I guess the passenger next to me thought I seemed fidgety as I was randomly moving my arm up and down—because I need to get those 250 “steps” per hour. I consider telling her what I’m doing then realize she will harshly judge me so I say instead, “I’m a meth addict and this is what is known as tweaking”. She still seems aggravated and flummoxed then turns to the woman seated on her other side and says, “Mommy, what’s tweaking?”
Nearly every day since December 25, I have met my ten hour Fitbit goal for the explicit joy of seeing the fireworks explode on my screen—“Stop it!” I blush, “Why are you so good to me, Fitbit?”
For years now I’ve watched three of my siblings battle each other on daily steps because they are..what? In some sort of Fitbit competition? They can see each other’s daily progress. My brother is in California but the Oklahoma sisters will look at their Fitbits and jump to attention. “Bob’s on the move!” one will exclaim, prompting them both to leave the meeting, lunch or funeral they are attending. When my dad was in the hospital after a stroke I would watch them get the “buzz” at 10 till on their watches then march from the room swinging their arms like Nazi soldiers. “How odd and silly”, I used to think but now I’m the one pushing through crowds and ramming little old ladies over when the clock strikes 10 till any number between 8am and 5pm.
Fitbit tells me I got 9 hours of sleep last night. I’ve never slept 9 hours before and I remember being wide awake from 1am to 4am but Fitbit says I was in “light sleep” and Fitbit wouldn’t lie to me. And just like that, 40 years of insomnia: cured.
I’m in the honeymoon stage of my new relationship. It is sure to wane. Someday I will call those prompts nagging instead of nudging. But for now, I’m in love. And I gotta go. It’s 10 till and I see fireworks in my future.