Category: slimming

Fitbit Failure…


Unfortunately Phil picked up on my very subtle hints regarding my desire for a Fitbit and as such I was the lucky recipient of one on my birthday. Alas, Phil had forgotten how target driven I can be. And had not considered how irritating that would be for him. 

For those unfamiliar with a Fitbit it is like a watch which records your activity. You can then check on your phone how active you have been and see if you are meeting the suggested targets, like 30 mins of exercise 5 times a week, 250 steps an hour and 10 000 a day. When you hit such targets the Fitbit will flash and vibrate on your wrist and you feel an enormous sense of well being and pride.

So, in order to hit my 250 steps an hour I frequently jump up at 10 mins to the hour to pace on the spot or run a lap of the kitchen (I should point out the kitchen is not large it adds about 17 steps, max, and subsequently I get quite dizzy trying), I have been known to cycle rather than drive and there have been occasional evening constitutionals to get my step count up. So it appears to encourage some healthy changes. There have however been a few moments when I have questioned such a device…

1. Marching on the spot in the lounge while eating a packet of crisps. 

2. Deciding to take a smaller portion of chocolates from the naughty cupboard, thinking that at least I will get some extra steps in when I return for my second helping. 

3. The Girl having a tantrum on the walk home because I was walking too fast and I genuinely wanted to make her understand that I had targets to hit otherwise the tiny computer on my wrist won’t flash and vibrate to reward my success. 

4. Realising that it had taken me over 2000 steps to put the kids to bed. This was confirmation of a tough evening and legitimised a large glass of wine. 

5. Realising that when my alarm went off at 6am I had already managed 267 steps since midnight simply by attending to my snotty little darlings. 

6. The one that has really made me question my commitment to such a device and wonder if in fact the Fitbit is the work of Satan. It flashing up on the screen to tell me……”The average Fitbit user wakes up 23 mins later than you on a week day and 1 hour 10 mins later than you on a weekend.”

1 hour and 10mins. Why? Why would I need to know this? I know I haven’t had a proper lie in for 4 and half years. I know I get woken up every morning by a not-so-small-anymore child, (who has seemingly spent the night sharpening her elbows and knees) clambering over me to get in to my bed. I know that any time after 5 am is fair game for The Boy to start hollering for his morning milk and stand in his cot shouting at me until I deliver him his cup of milk, and good god if I don’t get there quick enough I know he is going to throw his little self around that cot in a hungry rage. I know that even when the day starts with an S, I still get up and have a full of day of “work” ahead of me. I know that there is no option of rolling over and going back to sleep. I know that I am permanently sleep deprived. I know how much I would love to sleep for an extra 10 mins, never mind 70 mins!

So why, oh why, does my phone need to tell me how crappy my sleep is and how everybody else does it better? Damn you stupid Fitbit. You can take your statistics and shove them where the sun don’t shine. I’m done. I’m out. 

Although I do quite like the party on my wrist when I do 10 000 steps… 

An Eggcellent Achievement…

I did it. I only went and got Slimmer of the Week, dream achieved, goal accomplished. 

This basically means that out of the people who weighed in today (and who stayed to group- which I do in order to take advantage of the free child care), I had lost the most weight. 
Not only did I get rewarded with a round of applause, there was a sticker (yes, like my preschool child, I was rewarded with a sticker- it was shiny too) and a certificate of such a snazzy design it rivals The Girl’s “I got dressed myself today” certificate, to put on the fridge. However, beyond the celebration suitable for a 3 year old (but strangely acceptable) there is also “The Box”.

Each week you are asked to take something healthy to put in the box then the ‘slimmer of the week’ gets to take the contents of the box home. Now, I normally take a few bits of fruit, once when I had not been shopping and we were living out of cupboards I took a tin of tuna. You get the idea. It’s not a treat box- it’s a carry on getting skinny box. Or so I thought. 

The contents of my winning box were somewhat questionable. 

There were:

– Satsumas, and a few bits of fruit. I suspect these were from “The Consultant”. 

– 6, yes 6 chocolate bars. Special skinny ones but still, not quite a piece of fruit. 

– A Curly Wurly. Because that’s diet food right there. 

– 2 packets of Super Noodles, now this diet is fairly forgiving but super noodles serve no purpose other than to replenish salt levels in a student with a mighty hangover.

– A tin of sardines. In fairness it’s in keeping with the diet, just not top of my desirables list.

– An egg. I assumed, wrongly, it would be hard boiled but no, a straight up raw egg. Just one. Not in its box, just loose amongst the calorie laden snacks. 

I can’t help but think that now there are perhaps some undertones of hostility within the group. This box definitely didn’t say to me “well done and carry on getting skinny”.

This box said : “We hate you. We are bitter that you are getting skinny and we are trying to throw you off track by filling your house with anti slimming goods … and a raw egg”.

I think it’s the raw egg that got to me the most. But not to be defeated by the bullies, I nestled this lone egg in the bottom of The Boy’s foot muff on the pram, got it home in one piece, and had myself a well deserved egg bap.

You will never guess what I’m contributing to the box next week…