Two years ago I had an unfortunate accident at work. I broke my right hand and spent my winter in a different job which requires less movement and I ate every piece of junk food I could get my hands… Hand… on.
I returned to full duty ten pounds overweight and so weak I couldn’t break apart the soda nozzles at the end of my shift.
I had a visit with my nurse practitioner two weeks before my annual physical and the numbers on the scale were higher than they were on the day I brought my newborn daughter home from the hospital.
At first I just wanted to lose a couple pounds to show the doctor I had the situation under control. I’m not a big girl, so ten pounds hangs heavy on my frame even though I’m lucky that I gain weight evenly across my whole body.
But then I couldn’t get my thighs in my pants.
I had just turned 38 and I knew I had to shed the weight before I turned 40.
I started counting calories, going for walks and bike rides and returned to weight training which I had done periodically since college.
I lost 30 pounds in six weeks. Oops.
I am probably the only person on the planet who bought a Fitbit to make sure I eat enough. I had no idea how active I really was.
I’ve gained about 10-12 pounds back, over the course of two years, but my body has dropped dress sizes as the weight comes back as muscle.
I’ve stopped counting calories. But I still have the Fitbit, and I love it, except for the fact that everyone is constantly challenging me. I work retail so I cover a lot of ground. People I know on Fitbit use me as their challenge but it stresses me out to “have” to keep ahead of them– especially since I know they’re using me as a success benchmark.
My goal is seven miles a day, so if I have a lazy day and only reach four or gasp three miles, I feel guilty.
I even monitored Fitbit when I broke my ankle this fall.
At this point I know my body’s needs and I can estimate how many steps I take on a day. So do I need Fitbit?
It’s nice to be held accountable but sometimes it’s too much of an obsession or strain.