Fit (not one) bit

The idea behind purchasing a Fitbit fitness tracker was to motivate myself to get off the bed every now and then and work towards building a reasonable stamina and physique. Over the years I’ve tried various methods. At one point I even purchased a set of Dumbbells, a work out mat and I would follow what the guy in the workout video would do. That lasted a week. Haven’t returned to that with stern determination. It gives you these little badges with adorable animals if you complete a task like walking ten thousand steps in a day. It makes you feel good and it kind of taunts you when you don’t complete it. It doesn’t say anything in particular but I feel it judging me. I feel is secretly whispering to its electronic components and calling me a fat lazy bastard. I hate it already. 

What it probably visualises is a guy wearing racing tights and just prepared to run the lengths and breadths of the earth. The truth is far from it. I’m a 26 year old guy who is probably defines new heights of laziness. I am the epitome, the poster child, the face of human procrastination. And I purchased a Fitbit because I had a few hours to kill at the airport. Why do I do these things? 

But I’ve found a way around it. Mum takes regular walks around the park nearby and I’ve given her the job of increasing my step count. It works perfectly. The tracker thinks I’m pulling off all the stops to stay fit. I can honestly feel it’s judging eyes steer away from me and maybe even a hint of a smile. That’s how it should be. Man should be allowed to cheat on machines. Know who your master is bitch. You can’t make me feel bad if I choose a greasy pizza and a cold beer over completing ten thousand steps in a day. I’m just gonna hand you over to my mother and she’ll do the rest. How you like them apples?


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