If you have to wear a Fitbit, you should probably know that the term “Fitbit” is short for “fat, gross, stupid, depressing bitch.”
I get so sad when I see middle-aged, apple-shaped, elastic-waistbanded women wearing fitness trackers on their wrists. Nice try, but I don’t think lifting the donut to your mouth counts as steps toward your goal.
I understand that wearing your little fitness band (with the extender so that it will fit around your unbelievably large wrist) is really just you saying, “Hey, at least I’m trying.” And good for you, Alice, but you’re not fooling anyone. We see you drinking the Big Gulp filled with regular Coke. We’ve watched you drive around the parking lot for an hour so you can get the front spot instead of walking 100 ft. into the cupcake shop. We’ve been in the elevator when you take it all the way from the first to the second floor. We’ve seen all of that, but the thing we don’t see is the point.