The following is the latest in a series of journal entries chronicling the author’s descent into next-gen gaming degeneracy – from getting his first television in years to trying to figure out why the @$@”$)@ you need two goddamn directional pads just to walk down a fucking hallway.
Since I started this column, playing videogames more than I have in years and writing about them, my weight has shifted dramatically.
My pants no longer fit. My belt is a useless strap of leather. My gut is a constant concern, something I find myself glancing at in the mirror on an almost daily basis. Each time I weigh myself, it’s a new, even more shocking number.
As I write this, after five full months of sitting on my ass, storming castles and solving puzzles, I am not 10, not 20, not even 30 … but 56 pounds lighter.
Wait, lighter? (more…)