One of my favourite games as a child was the exhilarating Pacman. I remember spending countless hours before the television – my hand firmly bound to the joystick of my Atari game console.
My father surprised us one evening with this dream box, concealed under his trench coat as he made his way through the front door. Joyfully, I grasped the gift from my father, kissing him contently on the cheek and dashing to the living room to set up our new world of entertainment.
As I continued to unravel the Atari out of the myriad layers of polystyrene, a magnificent vision appeared before me, echoing an alluring sound that would invite me to enter an everlasting relationship with the machine.
The Atari console arrived complete with four joysticks – two of them suitable for Pacman and Space Invaders – the second pair designed for Asteroids and Breakout. With one expensive, yet highly-appreciated gesture, my father managed to change our world overnight.
I recall losing a considerable amount of weight during this phase of ‘electronic comfort’. In fact, I often pleaded with my mother, declaring my intentions to skip dinner, and challenge my own high scores. My obsession soon became evident through my declining school grades, limiting my bathroom visits (unless it was an absolute necessity), and even restarting the Pacman game if one of the formidable ghosts managed to confront my yellow, sweet-rounded hero in the first round.
Pacman re-entered my world recently as the familiar introductory music channelled its way through the upstairs passage, all the way through to the downstairs study. I paused for a moment, as a series of childhood memories reawakened; I found myself in my son’s room as he lay on his bed, working his way through the labyrinth of Pac-dots, dodging the ghosts through every corner of the maze.
“This game is so annoying,” he screamed, “those horrible things keep eating me.”
“You need to be quick,” I replied.
“Show me.”
Two simple words; that’s all I needed. My son presented me with the ultimate challenge.
I arrogantly took my seat before the computer screen, familiarised myself with the cursor keys, and within seconds, I was achieving the inevitable – my son was staring speechless.
“Welcome to my world,” I remarked sarcastically, observing his flustered expression.
Admittedly, I found myself glued to the screen for hours, overlooking my recent commitment to the news, disregarding dinner, and finally retiring after moving to the fourth level.
Could ‘Pacman’ be the answer to my dieting prayers?
As Pacman continued to swallow the endless streams of dots, I noticed my appetite oddly declining, and my motivational spirits thriving.
It’s my second day of incessant Pacman use and I have successfully managed to triple my score and reach the seventh level. My food intake has reduced dramatically to almost half, yet my energy levels have astonishingly surpassed my expectations.
Despite my wife’s concerns of her husband turning into a video junkie, I am determined to include a ‘healthy’ dose of Pacman into my new weight plan. As for the dosage, I feel I have earned the right to exercise my own ‘healthy’ prescribed amount.
Weight for me tomorrow. Paul
Paul Lambis is the author of “Where is Home?” – A journey of hilarious contrasts. For more information on Paul Lambis, and to order his book online,
visit www.paul-lambis.com
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