Fatty Has A Heart

I have a heart. I know it doesn’t seem like it because I’m a mean spirited spawn of evil who sees no good in anyone and just blurts out horrible things while making up elaborate plots for revenge. I’m just kidding- none of that is true. I’m awesome and I have an awesome heart. Know how I know? I have a heart rate monitor.

I love my monitor. It tells me how many calories I burn. It tracks how hard I’m working, and it gives me a percentage based on my age, weight, and gender. And it lets me know “holy crap, your heart is going crazy, you are going to die, SLOW DOWN!!!!” Well, not really- But it would be awesome if it had the Star Trek “this ship is going to blow up” alarm when my heart rate gets too high. But these goals all in good time I guess. New app for my phone perhaps?

I wanted a heart rate monitor that gave me calories burned and had a chest strap because I know those are more effective at reading the heart rate. I bought the Reebok Dual Heart Rate Monitor from target- and I wear it 4-6 days a week. It takes a beating and keeps going- we have a lot in common my monitor and I.

My heart keeps me alive. It keeps beating even when I’m not paying attention to it- or when I decide I want to eat deep fried Twinkies covered in sugared lard. And my heart rate monitor tells me I’ve worked hard, and my heart is still in top shape. And after working hard, how is an appropriate reward NOT deep fried Twinkies covered in sugared lard???