I made a horrifying discovery during my fourth video call of the day last Tuesday. As my colleagues droned on about quarterly projections and resource allocations, I found myself fixated not on their faces or the shared presentation, but on my own digital reflection lurking in that little rectangle at the bottom of the screen. Specifically, I was transfixed by the way my neck folds created a topographical map of middle age when I looked…

I realized I had a problem when my chiropractor recognized me by my X-rays alone. “Ah, Mr. Thornfield,” he said, glancing at the film displaying the unmistakable curve of my upper spine. “Still holding your phone at navel level?” He was right, of course. I’ve spent the better part of the last decade with my neck bent at what can only be described as a structurally inadvisable angle, thumbs flying across a screen positioned just…