It wasn't easy spending that kind of money on a gadget, but I made a number of nifty rationalizations and convinced myself, with the number of pedometers I've lost over the last couple years, I might as well just buy a fitness bracelet. They're not cheap gizmos, but you click one on your wrist and that sucker doesn't fall off unless the hand does. Plus they've got those neat apps that go with them to motivate and calculate and, yeah, sure, that's going to keep me moving and help me lose weight and win the powerball and all that good stuff.
Right.
But you have to keep trying, work every last ridiculous optimistic concept you can get your mind around, so that's how I found myself at the gadget store with a very helpful young man explaining how to work the bracelet. Jed seemed more than happy to spend some extra time helping an age-handicapped technophobe.
"You can keep it on, 24/7. In fact, you'll want to, so it can count all your aerobic activities. It's water-resistant, but not waterproof, so don't immerse it in water. You can wash dishes, but you don't want to swim with it on and you probably shouldn't wear it in the shower," he most helpfully explained.
"Not a problem," I replied, matter of factly. "I don't usually do anything aerobic in the shower."
I looked up from the black band on my wrist to see the young man with his hand over his mouth, obviously trying to hide a face-wide grin.
Oh, good lord. Fifteen years of boy-wrangling experience and I still forget what goes through their hormonally-addled minds at any and every opportunity.
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