Ten thousand steps a day.

A few months ago, Tim replaced his fitness tracker because it wasn’t compatible with the app that his work uses to give him “credit” for healthy living. My man wanted his 50 bucks a quarter for getting his steps in, for heavens sake.

I gladly accepted the cast-off fitness tracker as a gift.

Admittedly, I was kind of obsessed with checking how many steps I was racking up throughout the day (and how).

I became frustrated when pushing my son on the swing for fifteen agonizing minutes yielded like 20 steps.

Or when I exercised one morning (it was arm day) and yielded less than 500 for a half hour sweat sesh. What a rip-off.

Then again, what a pleasant surprise to discover that folding three loads of laundry converted to almost a thousand steps.

Clearly, the “steps” feature of my fitness tracker is somewhat lacking in accuracy.

Still, the very first day I wore it, I discovered that I got over 10,000 steps. On a pretty average day. And the day after that, and the day after that too.

It turns out that this stay-at-home Mom gig is rather strenuous. Not that I’m surprised.

What that also means, is that the weight gain I’ve experienced over the last year and a half (I blame the remodel) has little to do with inactivity. Crap.

What does a girl over forty have to do to maintain her figure?

On the days I exercise (only like two a week, unfortunately) I get over 15000 steps…and no weight loss.

I can’t say that the word “skinny” has ever been used to describe me. And I’ve never been willing to take drastic measures just to look good in a swimsuit. It’s just not where I place my value.

But honestly, maybe I should. Cause 10,000 plus steps just ain’t gonna save me from a heart attack unless I learn to put down the fork. Today.