What unsettled me most was realizing how long I had overlooked the signs. The strap had grown slightly sticky and uneven, but I brushed it off as ordinary aging. I wiped it clean, adjusted it, kept wearing it as though mild discomfort was simply part of the routine. Every curl I found should have been a warning, yet I swept each one aside without ever wondering what it meant. Once I finally paid attention, the pattern was unmistakable—the same spots breaking down, the same stress points repeating.
When I finally replaced the band, it felt like nothing more than a simple errand. But the moment I clipped the new strap in place, something shifted. The watch felt different on my wrist: smoother, lighter, free of the subtle drag I’d grown used to. Only when the irritation vanished did I realize how deeply I had adapted to it. My body had been compensating in small ways for a long time without my awareness.
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