People say that there is nothing as boring as listening to someone tell you about a dream they have had. I think there may now be something even more tedious: someone telling you about their sleep score. 

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Since my husband bought himself an Apple Watch, he has become a sleep swot. Our morning conversations have become a one-way monologue in which he proudly tells me about his resting heart rate, his time spent in deep slumber, the number of wake ups (with a 16-month-old next door, I am quite aware of the latter already). 

Honestly, is there anything less romantic than waking up to a breakdown of your spouse’s biometrics? John Donne once wrote a poem about wearing a lock of his lover’s hair around his wrist, a moving metaphor of the transcendence of spiritual love. My husband wears no such token. Instead, he is enamoured with wrist-wear that tracks your temperature and gives you advice for ‘sleepmaxxing’ strategies and schedules. 

I am sick of self-care. Wellness and good health no longer merely constitutes ‘not being ill’: it is now an ongoing process of self-improvement, a continuous project of ‘working on oneself’. Wellness was........

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