My Watch Thinks I’m a Hula Hoop Hero

I bought one of those fancy fitness trackers. Supposedly it’s there to improve my life. Judging by the messages, it’s just here to mock me.

The other morning, I sat down with my coffee, and the watch buzzed like I’d just completed the Boston Marathon—

“Great job standing!”

Well, thank you, I suppose. I didn’t realize verticality was an achievement for me, but I’ll take the win. I only get so many these days.

Later, I went out to the mailbox. Vibrating again, the watch excitedly flashed another message—

“You’ve met your move goal!”

Apparently, that means surviving the trek back, hauling in the electric bill and the latest Southern Living.

If I had been wearing my watch the day I ploughed headfirst into a spider’s web, it would’ve awarded me Olympic gold in the 200-meter butterfly. Maybe even a world record.

The best was last Tuesday. I flopped over in bed to turn off the lamp, somehow triggering a pinnacle milestone—

“New personal best!”

I have no idea what category it was for. Flopping? Reaching? Twisting away to dodge the screen’s glare from my wife’s latest Facebook obsession? I may never know.

Don’t get me wrong — I like the idea of being cheered on. I’m all for applause when I fix a leaky faucet, parallel park on the first try, or remember why I walked into a room. But if my wrist claps every time I sneak past the refrigerator without peeking for a snack, we’ve set the bar too low.

Perhaps.

I wonder if there’s any apple pie left…