Fitness Trackers Fuel Obsession and Dependence

I am deeply concerned about the impact of fitness trackers on children susceptible to the development of an eating disorder. A fitness tracker certainly doesn’t cause an eating disorder. However, the reliance on an outside metric to determine if they “burned” enough calories, got into the right “zone” or got enough steps that day, can certainly be a catalyst for obsession which can lead to an eating disorder.

When I was in elementary school my body was bigger than many of my peers. This is common in elementary school as everyone’s body grows and develops at different speeds (oh puberty!). In third, fourth and fifth grade, I towered over some of my classmates. I wasn’t “unhealthy” I just developed faster. And while I wish that didn’t matter, it did. I had anxiety and excruciatingly low self-esteem and felt intense shame and discomfort about my body.

Peers made fun of my body size. I remember being painfully embarrassed that I had to start wearing a bra in fourth grade. I told peers who noticed, that it was a back brace. But there was no hiding my developing body. Peers called me names and made funny noises when I walked past them. Teachers and adults often commented on how I was bigger than my peers and “developing so early.” I remember PE teachers pinching my skin and telling me I had a lot of fat on my body for a __ grader (I got those comments throughout elementary, middle and high school – until anorexia took over).

When teachers talked about eating “healthy” I felt judged and ashamed because I couldn’t hide my bigger body. Sometimes teachers would spend extra time with me to make sure I understood the importance of portion control and eating fruits and vegetables. I was convinced everyone assumed I didn’t eat “healthy” because my body was bigger. I often compensated by saying negative things about my body and talking about being on a diet. The passive and overt messages I received at school, in public, with friends and in the media, was that my body was “bad” because it was bigger. My body was a “problem” because it was bigger.

As a young kid in elementary school, I believed my body was a problem that needed to be fixed. If I just “ate healthy” I would shrink and everything would be better. My body would fit in with my peers and everyone would be kind and accept me. I would belong.

So, as a kid in elementary school, I went from focusing on fun and play to how can I “fix” my problematic body. I was conditioned to believe dieting and burning calories would lead to weight-loss, so if my PE instructors introduced me to a fitness tracker, I would have been all over it! A fitness tracker meant I could focus on calorie burning in gym class rather than athletic performance (which I wasn’t very good at anyway).

As teachers taught us about the tracker and explained heart rates and zones, I’d perk up and pay extra attention when the teacher mentioned the zone where I could burn the most calories. I would determine that any exercise or workout where I didn’t get into the prime calorie burning zone was a waste of time. As the teacher showed the cool metrics tracked by the monitor I would immediately notice the calories burned. The teacher wouldn’t need to talk about or point out the calories burned, I would see it and if I didn’t see right away I would hunt for it. As a kid who thought she needed to lose weight, calorie burning would be my focus.

In my mind, a fitness tracker would help me lose weight which would solve all my problems. I’d go home and tell my parents about this awesome thing we used in gym class that could help me be “healthy” (ie thin). My parents would likely buy me my own fitness tracker because, they are kind, loving parents who want me to be healthy and happy. My parents would likely feel validated with their purchase because the school not only endorsed the use of fitness trackers but also the company they bought the tracker from.

The tracker would quickly become the arbitrator of my value and self-worth. If I burned enough calories and/or got enough steps, I was good. Unless I wasn’t losing any weight. Then I would likely start working harder to burn more calories or restrict my food intake. If I didn’t burn enough calories and/or get enough steps or wasn’t losing weight, then I was bad. I was a failure. The shame would be intense and overwhelming. I might pretend to be sick so I wouldn’t have to go to school. Or I might go to school and wallow in how worthless I was and how much I hated myself because of my problematic body that refused to fit in.

I would turn to food to ease the pain. And for a while, it might work. Food didn’t judge, shame or blame me in the moment. The shame and intense self-loathing came later. I’d think, “I can’t do anything right and I deserve to suffer in my big, stupid, ugly body.” My parents would notice I seem moody, snippy and withdrawn. My teachers might notice that I seem “off.” Someone might even say something to me, but I would shrug it off because I’m not worth anyone’s time.

A day or two or week later, I would make a deal with myself to be “good” from now on. Burn X number of calories every day, get X number of steps, push myself into the prime calorie burning zone every day. And for the first few days, or maybe even a week, I’d do it. And I’d feel great! I’d have a bounce in my step and a smile on my face as I told friends and family how I’d been eating “healthy” and working out every day. How I was getting at least X number of steps every day. And they would congratulate me and encourage me to keep it up. They might also feel a little bad about themselves because they haven’t been eating “healthy” or getting in as many steps as me.

After a week or two I would slip. I’d miss a step goal or eat something “bad” and deem myself a failure. The intense self-loathing would take over my mind and body and I would slip back into darkness. A couple of weeks later, I would resurface and recommit to being “good” and get back on the tightrope.

This cycle would likely continue for a couple of years. During those years I would become more and more obsessed. I’d lose the ability to listen to my body. My mood, my value, my worthiness as a person would depend on what the fitness tracker told me. My body might get smaller and people would congratulate and encourage me. They’d probably even ask how I’m doing it. I’d smile and tell them, “Hard work!” While inside I condemned myself for taking a bite of a donut that morning.

Soon people might start to notice that I’m getting a little “too” thin. They don’t say anything at first because it’s awkward and uncomfortable. But then I start looking emaciated and people are getting scared. Maybe my parents or the school intervene and try to get me help. Or maybe my body doesn’t get smaller, so no one notices my suffering and I slip further into darkness. The obsessive monitoring of my steps and calories warped my perspective and I can’t stop. Something’s taken over my brain and convinced me that my value as a human depends on what my body looks like. It tells me that the only way to escape the pain of never being good enough is to restrict, binge and/or purge.

Will this be most kids experience with a fitness tracker? No, probably not. But it will be some kids’ experience.

I recognize the benefits of using external metrics to teach kids about what their bodies can do. This type of wearable technology is exciting, but not without risk. By having students wear the trackers during every gym class they are conditioning the student to look to an external metric to tell them what their body is doing. This disrupts the student’s relationship with his/her/their body because the student no longer trusts what their body is telling them, rather they feel compelled to seek validation from the device. I saw this first hand when a five-year-old told me before heading out to the playground, “Oh no! My steps won’t count because I forgot to put on my Fitbit this morning!” Other moms and childcare workers have shared story after story of young children obsessing about how many steps they take and making sure their steps “count.”

In addition, at a time when I thought we were trying to get our kids to spend less time looking at screens, why are we giving them more reasons to look at a screen? (How many times a day do you look at your phone or device to check your step count, calories burned, heart rate, hours slept or input your calorie intake?)

I understand that fitness trackers have some benefits. I know several adults who enjoy the benefits of using a fitness tracker. Adults have the emotional and experiential maturity to stop using something if it’s harming them. I’m not speaking for them. I’m speaking for 8 year old me. I’m speaking for the kids who don’t have the language yet to articulate how this device makes them feel bad about themselves.  I’m speaking to shine a light and amplify the experience of the 30 million Americans who suffer with an eating disorder (Ninety-five percent of whom are between the ages of 12 and 25). I’m speaking to honor the twenty-three people who die every day because of an eating disorder.