Between this and the Duolingo bird, I’m going off the grid.
It was bad enough when my watch would vibrate and tell me to stand. I long for the days of that simplicity. One tap would allow me to ignore it and resume watching a reality show about people who fold towels on a yacht, consume copious amounts of alcohol, and sleep with one another.
However, on a rather depressing Monday, one side of my jeans put a restraining order on the other and refused to be in the same vicinity. That was when I knew it was time for a change. The past five years had been a graveyard of diets and weight loss plans. My latest attempt was a seventy-two hour cleanse involving only green tea, paprika, lime juice and salt. My wife found me passed out on the bathroom floor, face down in a double cheeseburger, after hour eighteen.
I heard through the grapevine that there was a new, all-around fitness program that was sure to push me to the limits. They needed beta testers and were specific in asking for ‘notorious fitness and diet dropouts’. Finally, a job I was qualified for. There were a lot of release forms and one of the developers warned me that I needed to have a thick skin. When I said my skin was as thick as Church’s ultra-crispy bucket of chicken, he was not amused.
“It’s like having your own personal drill sergeant,” he warned me. As he explained it, it connected to all of my technology. Any apps I had, GPS, my home security system – anything more advanced than an abacus. It used all the information it gathered to tailor a program to keep me motivated in a very specific way.
I had the ring. I had the watch. I had tried all the apps. What made this different?
The tagline: “We use shame to get you gains.”
So, I charged my new watch and put it on when my wife asked me to retrieve her water from the kitchen. I decided to stop for a handful of my favorite mid-errand snack – ye ol’ Lucky Charms. Mid crunch, I got a message on the watch.
“General Mills should sue you for assault with how you’re groping those marshmallows.”
I looked around my kitchen, wondering if my wife had seen me on Furbo.
Another vibration. “I hope those forty-five calories were worth it.”
My smartwatch had indeed become smart. Too smart. Not just intelligent, but an actual cyberbully. Gone were the days of ignoring my step counting goals or ‘forgetting’ to document an entire sleeve of Oreos, defying science by not losing weight in my ‘caloric deficit’. Instead attached to my body was my own personal heckler. The first victims in the rise of the machines were my confidence and ego.
“You haven’t entered your weight in six months, yet I seem to be quite snug. Care to explain?”
“Oh, your heart rate is elevated. Must be an intense walk to pick up that Amazon package.”
“You’ve worked out three days in a row. Let’s not go back to your usual habit of backsliding into bucket of KFC, shall we? The Colonel’s Secret is lard, not herbs and spices.”
“Iced coffee is not water, don’t you dare put that in my app again.”
“GPS says you’re at Chipotle. I better see a six-mile hike later to make up for that burrito. We both know you got the extra guacamole.”
It deleted all my Spotify playlists and replaced it with “Work Out Mixes”. My work Outlook Calendar now has blocks of time that read “Getting in steps instead of pretending to send an e-mail”. It renewed my gym membership and cancelled Instacart. My dog’s e-collar sends me notifications that say “Mom, is my health a joke to you? Walk me.” My TV now wakes me up with a program called “Morning Abs” and my smart lock won’t release the deadbolt until I do it.
After a few days of being bullied and held as a health hostage, I stood up for myself. Well, not so much stood up for myself as ran. I left the watch at home, turned off my location and ignored the spam texts and calls to my phone. Between ‘DMV’ notices and the ‘loan approval’ messages, I had become a pro at avoiding digital harassment. If I wanted a Double Shot Vanilla Bean Four Pumps Iced Latte with an extra dollop of whipped cream, by God I would have one.
My phone buzzed again.
“Hi, Mom,” I said, pulling up to the drive-thru window. “How are you?”
“You DoorDashed a pint of Ben and Jerry’s three times in the last month? Don’t you know your Grandfather has diabetes? Not to mention the money you’re wasting…”
Well played Apple, well played.
My review? Five stars for weight loss. I am down ten pounds. One small problem – after you install it, it won’t go away. A bug they are still working to fix. So, in the meantime, enjoy your snacks. As for me, I’m out for a run. iShame has locked me out of all my streaming accounts until I hit my exercise goals.
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Ashley Lemley lives on a farm with misfit animals, a wonderful wife, and an unread email box of 30,740. She was recently featured in an Amazon delivery photo wearing crocs, socks, and gym shorts two sizes too big. Her first novel, a dark-humor laced thrilled, “The Next Big Name in Murder”, is debuting June 2027. Follow her on instagram for updates and fashion advice: @lemleyashley