It’s been two weeks since you left me, sweet Fitbit. And I need you to know that even though I’m smiling on the outside, I’m really not okay. I miss you. I miss us. And I want you back.
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I understand why you left, Fitbit. Really, I get it.
I didn’t appreciate you as much as I should have. If I did I would have made sure I held onto you tighter, and tightened your wrist band. By now you’ve probably moved on to someone else who caught a glimpse of you in the parking lot/ in my recycling bin/ in conference room 101B and knew they couldn’t let you go. They were smarter than I am. Also thiefier, but I’m not here to point fingers, I just want you to be happy.
Are you happy?
Since you’ve been gone I’ve let myself go. I hate to admit that but it’s true.
Did you know that you can gain 5 pounds in 6 days? You probably don’t because you are the master of self-control. But me? It’s like without you exercise doesn’t even matter. Why bother if you’re not there?
Calories don’t matter either, but that one is totally on me and a love of chips and salsa. Is that why you left? I don’t know how many times I have to say it, I love chips and salsa as a friend, nothing more. It’s always been you.
I miss the way you motivated me, believed in me, and were my biggest (wearable) cheerleader. I miss the way you always helped me feel more connected to the ones I love (through convenient on-my-wrist text message alerts). I miss the way you kept me on time (you know, because you’re a watch). Gosh, I miss your musk.
It’s time for me to move on, I get that.
And I’ll probably move on to someone who looks just like you, but who also knows my heart (rate) and provides more security (through a strap buckle clasp). You’ll always be my first though. And you made me better. Physically, mentally, spiritually. Maybe not spiritually. That was kind of missing in our relationship, but no relationship is perfect.
You though, Fitbit… to me, YOU were perfect.
Thank you for everything.
With love and already less defined calves,