It is 11.55pm on a Friday evening and you are pacing back and forth in your living room, rocking as you walk and muttering under your breath, "Never, ever, again" as you weep with exhaustion and occasionally eye up your bed with longing.
No, you are not a new parent. What you are instead is the proud keeper of a Fitbit and you are in the final five minutes of a Workweek Challenge.
For everyone who doesn't know what a FitBit is, I envy you, I truly do. I was once like you, walking freely without counting steps, skipping without a care in the world and getting off at the actual bus stop I wanted, instead of the one earlier just to rack up extra steps.
But now, I am a #FitBitch. I am forever linked with the people in my phone WHO WON'T SIT DOWN and the competitive streak in me means that I WON'T sit down either.
I walk, and I walk, and I walk and I walk and I walk some more. This is now my life. I have grown to feel that the plastic strap around my wrist is more of a manacle than a wearable. Some people are electronically tagged around the ankle and put on curfew, I feel as if I am tagged around the wrist and silently judged by the little lights that slowly light up for every 20% of my target that I reach.
When you first get a Fitbit, you think it is all fun. What you just don't realise is that you are entering a long-term relationship with this thing. It is like having a needy partner but instead of feeding off your love, it feeds off your steps like a warped Tamagotchi/Furby hybrid.
"This weekend, shall we just have a lazy one?"
"WALK YOU BITCH, JUST WALK"
and so I walk, because if I don't it will punish me all week with a lower weekly average step count, meaning that I slip down the leaderboard and I have no-one to blame but MYSELF, I start to wish ill will on my fellow competitors, nothing serious, just maybe something that means they might have to lie down for while, I'm not wishing an upset stomach on them though, that involves running to the bathroom, which means more steps, THAT IS CHEATING.
If I was only using the Fitbit to measure my own steps, I like to imagine that I wouldn't be as competitive as I am now, but recently Fitbit introduced challenges to the app where you can invite your fellow
I'm not saying I want to be top of the leaderboard, but OH MY GOD I WANT TO BE TOP OF THE LEADERBOARD and I want to stay there, batting away the other nine people in my group who are all trying to overthrow me. JUST CALL ME CONNOR MCCLOUD OF THE CLAN MCCLOUD because there can be only one.
Cough. Competitive? Moi?
Just a little, but this is what the Fitbit does to you. You walk further each day, and even if you beat your previous days total by one step you feel like Keifer Sutherland in 24, disarming the bomb before the timer ticks down to zero.
Apply those glasses, Keifer, YOU DESERVE IT.
Yes, I can tell you exactly how many steps it is to my nearest Sainsbury's store. Yes, I have different straps for my Fitbit so that I can match my outfits. Yes, I often harbour bad thoughts about people who beat me in the weekly challenges and YES I have cried if I have taken off my Fitbit to have a bath and then forgotten to put it back on. (and let us never forget the dead battery moment of 2014. It was a sad sad time) Yes, I get beaten in the Workweek Hustle by my nemesis occasionally,
Glares at Betty.
But would I take it off?
Hell no, I'm signed up for three Workweek Hustles already for this week and I have to win one of them, right? RIGHT?
Feel the same?
Let me know.
Big Fashionista x x x