Apple Watch: THE Review

First Born and Cooking Child bought me an Apple Watch. They decided to buy it themselves, chose the style and colour (correctly) themselves, purchased it themselves and, most importantly, PAID for it THEMSELVES. Extraordinarily thoughtful and generous for a 15 and 13 year old. So it’s not exactly my shopping but it was shopped for, so well within the blog’s coverage.

I could not have been more excited to receive the watch. It is one of the best presents I have ever received that was not chosen (and purchased) by me.

Rose gold and blush pink. How very me.

A couple of posts ago I spoke about purchases that make you feel good or bad about yourself….or both, as in the case of the watch.

The watch has many useful aspects. I no longer have to walk around clutching my phone in my hand. My wrist receives all important messages and calls. Useful.

Reagan doesn’t like us checking our phone during gym class. Like all mothers, I don’t like NOT being able to check my phone in case a metaphorical fire that only I am capable of extinguishing befalls my children in the 45 minutes I am separated from my phone. Now I can just surreptitiously check my wrist. Again, useful.

The watch also tells the time.

However, my watch has a nasty habit of bullying me into productivity. The more I do, and specifically the longer I stand, the happier the watch is with me. I don’t need to be pressured into being more productive – I am excellent at pressuring myself all by myself.

At the end of the first day I wore the watch, it tapped me to tell me the following:

The watch was pleased with me. I had been standing for 12 of 12 hours. This was when I first suspected that the watch did not necessarily have my best interests at heart. I want a watch that sees I have been on my feet for even 6 hours, and tells me to sit down with a cup of coffee and have a relaxing scroll on Instagram.

The next day things declined. It was one of those days. You know the ones. School holidays. You think you’re winning because the house is silent and then…..

your 5 year old discovers the joy of stamping, his bare skin the tempting canvas. No inch can be left unstamped.

The kids start fighting and don’t stop. You have to be in 5 different places at once. The kids whinge. The washing piles up as it rains incessantly. The dryer slows down on purpose.

You run around all day and the second you cross the threshold of your home, just as the kids start telling you that they are starving and what is for dinner (even though they KNOW you have been out with them all day and have not cooked a thing yet), your watch taps you and says:

If the kids were not around, you would actually tell the watch to fuck off. Breathe??? BREATHE???? Seriously the least it could do is use its calling capabilities to summon Jimmy Brings for an urgent Shiraz delivery. And Deliveroo Katzys for the kids. The technology is there. Clearly the programmer does not have kids.

Later on that night, after another congratulatory tap & wrist party for standing up the whole bloody day again, it suggests I go for a brisk walk. At 11pm. Because I am SO close to closing my forward motion ring. G-d forbid I go to bed with my rings unclosed. Watch does not care about the safety risk of going for a solo walk late at night. Watch does not care that I have been STANDING THE WHOLE day. NO! All watch cares about is closing its walking ring. If the watch were really clever it would be telling me to breathe again right now because I am close to hyperventilating in outrage.

On the upside, now that I know how long I stand for every day, I feel not a drop guilty for indulging in the occasional foot massage. In the same way that a manicure used to be a spa only indulgence and then were brought to the masses by fast, cheap, US style nail bars, massages have followed suit. A group of girlfriends introduced me to Siam Cabana last year and it remains my favourite (and it’s open til 10pm) but massage bars are everywhere. I now have a foot massage and cocktails tradition with my sister in law…we take each other on our birthdays but we’re thinking of expanding our reasons for celebration beyond two nights a year.

A half hour foot massage allows me to soothe my floor weary feet and write a blog at the same time. Productive. My watch would approve.

XOXO Shopping Girl

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Workout worked out

Being healthy is expensive. As I keep telling Working Boy, I am spending money on being healthy now in order to save MORE money later on expensive vitamin supplements and, you know, body part replacements. I have no idea if this is actually accurate but I think it sounds good. I am actually an economist.

You, perhaps, are reading this because, like Shopping Girl, you want to work out. Before you work out WHERE you will exercise, you will need to go shopping. For clothes. Don’t shoot the messenger – I didn’t make the (first world) rules. But the rules dictate, you have to look the part. Luckily, in the last few years, designer exercise gear has taken off and is the most massive industry. It’s gorgeous. It’s addictive. Possibly more addictive than those post-exercise endorphins (I am so slow at exercising it took my body two years to start producing these).

The sad truth (for me who likes icecream) is that when it comes to clothes, nothing goes with cellulite but everything goes with thin. And with that comes exercise.

Feargal Sharkey said that a good heart these days is hard to find. I don’t think he ever looked for good gym leggings or it would have been a very different song. They are indeed, hard to find. Lululemon makes my legging of choice (I am a good eastern suburbs housewife after all). Yes they are expensive. In their defence, they hold in my stomach AND leg flab, and they do this without creating more rolls above the waistband. I’m not looking to create a muffin top whilst giving up my muffin tops.

As an aside, why is it that extra fat on our body is referred to in bakery terms?? Rolls….muffins…..cupcakes (fine, I made that last one up)…..we’ve only just got started talking about our health and it’s inducing a fierce carb craving. I guess rolls make rolls and muffin tops make muffin tops.

Lululemon Fast and free crop

Anyway back to the leggings…they spring back to as new shape (and fat holding strength) after every wash. They are comfortable, they don’t ride up. They don’t fall down. In short long, they are worth it.

One thing I don’t buy at Lululemon is crop tops/ sports bras. In fact I don’t buy crop tops at all. Even in the comfort of my own home, this is me trying to get an overhead crop top on (hopefully without the police coming in at the end).

I don’t have time for that. I need it to take 5 seconds to put on like a normal bra. There’s a hungry 5 year old tyrant at the door, waiting shouting for his breakfast.

The only sports bra (ie that fastens at the back) that Lululemon has, is called a Ta Ta Tamer. Let’s just pause for a moment here. A Ta Ta Tamer. I don’t have Ta Tas. And even if I did, they do NOT need “taming”.

I love the look of so many of the crop tops around. Gorgeous colours, patterns and designs.

All from Style Runner

Now I just have to decide if I want to wake 5 minutes earlier each day to get myself into one. Actually I don’t need to decide. It’s a no. Moving on…..

My gym of choice is Third Space Health. My first prerequisite for a gym is proximity to my home. If it takes me more than 5 minutes to get to exercise, I will talk myself out of going before I get there.

Third Space is friendly and unpretentious. No-one reminds me of my school phys-Ed teachers. This is important. Not having PE classes rates in my top 5 Best Things About Not Being at School….possibly even top 3 and it’s a competitive list.

Third Space run small weights based group classes . It’s more expensive than, say, going for a jog but cheaper than personal training, even though the level of guidance and attention you get is personal. So, on balance, I’d say it’s value. I like a class that is weights based. I feel like I am preventing future osteoporosis (weight bearing exercise!). I also like saying things like “I can deadlift 75kg”. Which is true. I can deadlift 75kg (I told you I liked saying it).

Stay tuned for the next round of advertising starring me and Baby N, right Reagan????

Reagan, the owner and most often my trainer, is one part psychologist, one part physio, one part philosopher and two parts comedian. It turns out I need a bit of funny to get me through a workout. Staff of the Phys-Ed department of Perth College circa the 90’s: take note. If you were funnier, I might have been better at Sport.

Exercise is just one component of being healthy though. I could also get started on the food side. But at some point I would have to type “cacao”. I cannot in all seriousness say “cacao”. I literally cannot keep a straight face whilst saying it. I have a special expression just for saying “cacao”. Cacao is the superior cocoa. Cocoa – meh. Cacao – smug. Cacao, as my insta-friend Nikki would say, is peak Bondi.

But it’s not just cacao’s fault. I’ve run out of time.

Class over. Happy Shopping.

XOXO