So while I have a theoretical understanding of addiction, I it kind of doesn’t seem to apply to me. When I am going to take my driving test I really have to study up for the alcohol questions.
I don’t chew my cuticles. Or obsessively wash my hands or shop compulsively. Once in a while I can tell I’m drinking too much coffee or diet coke and then, I stop for a while.
But that’s it.
Like to think I just don’t have an addictive personality. But maybe that’s like telling myself I can’t swim because I don’t have enough body fat.
Because there’s this one thing….
For the last three and a half years I’ve worn a Fitbit. It tells me how many steps I walk. How many miles. How many flights of stairs. How many minutes of intensive activity I’ve had.
My Fitbit scale talks to the device and they both talk to my computer. I’ve got a little group so my sisters and I and Ariel can compare. Sabrina generally “wins”.
About a year ago I got annoyed that when I’d get up in the night to take Axel outside or use the restroom, those steps wouldn’t “count”, so then I started clipping it to my nightgown.
Are you sensing, perhaps, a little obsession? Addiction even?
And now I’m in withdrawal. It fell off my pajamas ten days ago at Jessamyn’s house and I didn’t have time to run back for it before coming home.
Eight times a day, at least, I reach into my pocket—or bra strap, or socks, the other places I keep it—to check my steps. I had gotten really good at guessing where my steps were, I was usually within a couple hundred of being right.
Next week I’m back up to Napa.
My mother thinks I’m coming to visit her.