Church of The Golden Fitbit

I am currently worshipping at The Alter of the Golden Fitbit. My Fitbit gives my life structure, it shows me how to live, it gives me rules and promises a better future if only I do what I’m told. Praise it. Sometimes I lapse but now I am born again.

My Fitbit is gold. Actually it’s 18 carat gold plated as is its bracelet, but that works for me .

I bought it with a birthday gift, a generous, posh store voucher. The circumstances of the gift giver suggested that I buy something I wouldn’t usually chose and that said object should be a bit flash. The detail of the circumstances to which I refer are almost certainly the work of my imagination rather than fact. The kind client who presented me with the gift was provided for by an ex, a Colombian business man. The nature of the Colombian’s business was not specified when I enquired. I asked because I’m inquisitive and interested, or what back in the day we used to call, nosey. I flew to the obvious, inevitable but unsupported and unverifiable conclusion. This conclusion was further embedded in my mind when this, by all accounts, very nice man died in an unexplained road traffic accident and a relative ran off with all his money.

Someone needs to write a treatment quick and courier it over to Netflix ASAP.

Anyhow I tried to imagine what a possible Colombian drug lord might buy me as ultimately he had probably funded this gift. Somehow I came to the conclusion that he would chose a Golden Fitbit.

I thank him, it was the perfect choice.