I’ve been awake since 3:00 with some kind of stomach bug*. It’s almost 10 now, and I’ve decided that the best thing to do is make cinnamon rolls, and I have two hours to let the dough rise**. Might as well blog, right?
I really do have something to blog about, though. I bought a Fitbit Flex last week because I have questionable spending habits. I thought it would give me some motivation to continue my 5k training thing, but no. Maybe I can convince myself next week to see if I can beat my numbers from this week.
I know that my job is absolutely as sedentary as it can get without being a professional napper and that I don’t get nearly enough sleep, but it was neat to see the actual numbers. If my day consists of just going to work, coming home, eating dinner, reading or watching tv, and going to bed (most days, sadly), then I barely break the 3/4 mile mark, step-wise. The most walking I did all week was when I went to the mall to make more unneeded purchases, and that was only two miles. I also average about 5.5 hours of sleep a night, which is factoring in Friday to Saturday, where I slept for nine. Not good.
Five lights means you met your goals for the day. One light means you’re a blogger.
The Fitbit Flex tracks your progress by connecting to your smartphone via Bluetooth. This has been the biggest downside for me because it is destroying my battery. I unplug my phone around 5:45 every morning and by noon, I’m down to 40%. It’s also really bad about saving my goal changes. The default is 5 miles a day and 10,000 steps. While that’s not asking for much, just starting out with my job and fitness level, it’s not happening right now. I decided to cut them in half so I felt less like a life failure, but it reset back to the default every time I closed out of the app.
The only other thing I don’t like is minor, but not really. The bracelet is kind of ugly. I feel like it looks like I’m on house arrest or something***. And I feel silly telling people what it is. Maybe I should just pretend it’s some kind of space-agey watch.
Oh! It also tracks your food. I forgot about that because I don’t use that part. You can also connect it to My Fitness Pal, which is cool. I did that, but I still don’t track my food. Tracking my food makes me eat too much and then lie to myself about what I ate. If I didn’t put that entire pumpkin cheesecake into the app, it doesn’t count, right? I mean, it works for some people, so I’m sure someone would use it. Just not me. I left Weight Watchers for a reason. Many reasons, really.
So, do I like it? Sure. Much better than using a pedometer on my iPhone, and I needed to see how little sleep and activity I was really getting. Would I pay for another one? No way. I could have bought a month’s worth of gas for as much as this thing cost. Neat little gadget, though.
Now that that’s out of the way, I need to talk about Harry Potter for a second. I started reading the series for the first time over a year ago. I’m 12 chapters into Deathly Hallows right now, and I’m having a hard time with this book. Everyone I love is dead right now, sans Neville and the twins, but I know it’s going to get worse. I’m glad I didn’t read these as a kid (Actually, I think DH came out around 2007? I’m too lazy to look that up) because I would have went through some major depression. I’m still not over the events of the end of the last book (spoiler free for my fellow late bloomers) because I thought they happened in this one, so I assumed everything was going to resolve and be okay. Big. Sigh. If you see me in the real world, feel free to hug me. But ask first if we don’t know each other, okay? Don’t be weird.
I’m reading The Unapologetic Fat Girl’s Guide to Exercise concurrently (with like 9 other books, really), and it’s fantastic. If you’re fat, unapologetically or not, you should read it. Hell, even if you’re not fat, read it. All bodies are good bodies, and all bodies need to be moved in some way. (I’m talking to myself here, mostly. Carry on.)
Other things I’m into right now include rewatching 30 Rock****, haphazardly catching up on American Horror Story Asylum, trying to figure out pie crust, paying off my credit cards, Bob Dylan, coping with the fact that I’ll be 30 in a little under two years and still live at home because I’m poor and to scared of my own shadow to live alone, and searching for my dough hook.
Also, I’d like to give a shout out to myself for writing more than once in a month. See you (maybe) soon, blog.
*By “some kind of stomach bug,” I mean I ate Chipotle for dinner yesterday.
**I’m some dirty hippie’s ideal spouse, provided I can have a Peggy-Bundy-meets-Martha-Stewart-type role.
***See? Already Martha, and my hair is obnoxiously red right now!
****Kenneth sums up my life so well, except that I know how to use a comma: