I’m forty-five minutes into an hour workout with my trainer, Carrie.
I’m dripping in sweat and about to go into another super-set of exercises. I casually glance down at my Vivofit. It’s the fitness band I wear that tracks my activity levels. If there’s an extended red line across the top of the display screen then that indicates you’ve been inactive for to long and need to step it up. As I look at the band, the red line is blazing across the display because it doesn’t count anything but a full stride of movement, walking or running.
So I say, “Look at this Carrie! The red line is mocking me! It says, move your ass fat girl, you’ve been stationary too long!”
Carrie is quietly laughing at my outrage.
So I look at the Vivofit on my wrist and say, “Fuck you Vivofit! You don’t count the 100+ lunges I’ve done today, or the eighty squats I did with weights! You don’t count the rowing machine, or the fact that I bench pressed 45 fucking pounds! Screw you and your red line of ridicule and judgment!”
Carrie is still laughing. And then she says, “That could make a good blog post.”