Wouldn’t it be nice to have a friend who smacks the cookie dough out of your hand at 2 a.m. when you’re mid-Netflix binge and literally NEED sweets to function? Or what about Friday after (skipping) class, when you have enough pizza and beer to feed a small herd of freshmen to get over the week you just had? And what about cupcakes? Just all the time, cupcakes.
No. It wouldn’t be awesome to have someone constantly asking, “Should you really eat that?” Yes, you damn should. Oh, and that friend is a dick.
We get that our eating habits might not be what some (or anyone) would consider “healthy,” but whatever. The alcohol diet has proven results, and if we order a salad once and Instagram it (#fitfam #cleaneating) then that basically counts as being a vegan. It’s just science.
But, in the off chance you’re one of the very few people who actually means it when you say you’re “trying to lose three pounds,” then you might be in luck–I’m pretty sure dieting is just an urban myth, though. No one really diets.
Enter: Coach Alba
For the low, low price of just $29.95 a year, you can have a computer tell you how much of fat ass you are. You register your phone number, tell Coach the “crucial moments” that you tend to binge–such as after Thirsty Thursday, or uh, all day, every day–and your new texting buddy does all the rest.
By telling you to “drink water instead of snacking” or to “exercise instead of stalk Facebook all effing day” you’re supposed to feel motivated to stick to your diet and keep your head out of the fridge.
The last time someone tried to tell me what I shouldn’t eat, it ended in a silent treatment followed by a sexless night for my unlucky party. I don’t need that shit from my phone.
My phone is supposed to make me feel better. I use it to stalk people who have shittier lives than I do, and do that little thumb dance over the keyboard when I can’t decide what to text to my boyfriend to keep him slightly interested in me. My Australian-voiced Siri is required to call me “sexy,” for God’s sake. That last thing I need is for my technological safe haven to all of a sudden tell me to stop putting my fat, cheesy fingers all over its screen and run. Outside. With my legs.
But whatever. If feeling personally victimized by your iPhone is what you need to get into shape (as opposed to like, looking in the mirror) then Coach is waiting. I’d rather take that $29.95 and buy myself some tacos and ice cream and enjoy a world where my phone tells me how beautiful I am. When they create an app that texts me telling me I’m perfect and great, sign me up.
Oh wait–that’s called a big.
[via Coach Alba]