Chapter 1: A Gift that Changed My Perspective

I vividly recall opening my Apple Watch Series 3 on Christmas Day in 2019. Although I had never been particularly interested in high-tech gadgets—especially something as seemingly trivial as a “smart watch”—the allure of monitoring my health became too tempting to resist after observing friends and family effortlessly track their heart rates, respond to texts, and log workouts on such a compact device.

“You can use this to keep tabs on your workouts!” my mom exclaimed, beaming with pride. A marathon runner and a multitasking marvel, she had been a fan of her own watch for years. If she found it beneficial, I was sure I would too.

The journey began with the daily standing goal.

For those unfamiliar with the notorious exercise rings of the Apple Watch, they serve as a visual representation of your daily activity. The red ring indicates active calories burned, the green ring shows minutes spent exercising, and the blue ring tracks standing hours.

There’s a peculiar rush of satisfaction when you manage to close all three rings. Personally, I felt a surge of joy whenever I could complete them before returning home from work! This motivation drove me to wake up at 3 AM on weekdays to exercise. By the time I got home, my exercise ring would be closed, my move ring well on its way to completion, and I’d have achieved the 12-hour goal for standing.

In summary, I was utterly drained, but it didn’t faze me. My watch urged me onward, whispering challenges in my ear every day.

It is no surprise that someone who becomes fixated on calorie counting and daily activity tracking would also face challenges with disordered eating, body image issues, and compulsive exercising. While I’ve previously discussed these struggles, I won’t dwell on them now, nor will I hold Apple responsible for exacerbating my issues—just as an alcoholic wouldn’t blame a bar for their addiction.

Instead, I view my watch as something I ultimately sabotaged for myself.

I was aware of this reality. Every time I initiated a workout on my watch for stretching, I found myself continuing until I achieved a calorie burn of 100—sometimes stretching for an additional thirty minutes. Each instance of frustration when my watch paused during my cardio session led me to restart my workout just to record the calories. The urge to check how many calories I burned on a simple walk from my classroom to my office was overwhelming.

I couldn’t break the cycle. I wouldn’t break it. Without a record of my workouts or validation for reaching arbitrary goals—ones no physician had recommended—how could I feel satisfied? How would I maintain control? I couldn’t.

I owe my liberation from this self-imposed prison to Apple’s design choices that rendered older technology obsolete. With the release of the Apple Watch Series 8, my Series 3 became outdated. To sustain their enormous profits, Apple needs to make older devices seem useless, compelling users to purchase the latest model.

This was made clear to me after I updated my phone with a new iOS version. As someone who usually avoids automatic updates, I decided to embrace one after hearing positive reviews from friends.

However, after completing the update, an error message appeared, instructing me to unpair my watch and re-pair it. Upon doing so, I discovered my watch required the latest update to work with my phone.

You can probably guess what happened next.

My obsession didn’t fade quietly. I yelled at the watch, endured an endless wait for an update to finish, scoured the internet for solutions, and went to bed hoping that things would magically resolve by morning.

Of course, they didn’t.

The next day, I felt lost. I needed to do my stretches, but how could I ensure I was doing them correctly without a device to track my activity? Should I even bother exercising? Was there any purpose?

Despite my doubts, I decided to proceed with my stretches anyway (my aging body would appreciate it later), and an unexpected wave of tranquility washed over me.

“I’m free,” I whispered to myself in the stillness of my home at 3 AM.

Later, I danced to Taylor Swift workout videos, genuinely smiling and not fixated on calories, reveling in the rhythm as I felt my heartbeat and blood flow through my body.

Sure, I can no longer check the time. I won’t receive immediate notifications for texts or spam emails from Big Lots about fleeting sales.

But I can breathe. For the first time in years, I can truly breathe.

Interested in exploring more about my journey in overcoming body image issues and disordered eating? Check out the stories below!