Here's my idea for a dream exercise machine: I input my weight, the number of calories I want to burn and how much time I have. Then I power up the gleaming, multigeared thing-and it goes to work by itself while I return to my favorite chair, play online poker and eat maple-glazed doughnuts. Sadly, that Utopian scenario will arrive around the same time as the flying car. Meanwhile, my waistline is expanding in proportion to the national debt. A recent checkup confirmed my worst suspicions: I'm borderline everything, from diabetes to elephantiasis. Luckily, there's a raft of new gadgets on the market that use high-tech sensors to help me get a handle on my love handles. During the past month, I've focused on two gizmos that promise to pound the Quittner bod back into its more kittenish shape.
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