Living in a Football Fantasy World

Dearly Beloved Bloggers,

It's that time of year again.

You know, time for men all across America to come down with a bad case of football-itis, as Tarah likes to call it. Sometimes the football fever is so severe that they turn into crazed barbarians.

And pig-headedness takes over.

They don't even look like themselves anymore.

My husband gets couch ridden with this sickness every fall. It never fails. You'd think being sick, he'd care less about what he was wearing, but nope, not at all. He becomes so delusional with football-itis that he puts this jersey on and all of a sudden, he thinks his name is Steve Smiff and starts pretending he's the wide receiver for the Carolina Panthers. Then he start hootin' and hollarin',
"Time to get a T.O. BABY!!"

But you know what really makes this disease fester is when groups of feverish men get together and start fantasizing. That's right. Grown men begin fantasizing about men in tights. Hey don't look at me! I didn't come up with it. I'm just calling it like I see it. And the truth of the matter is that once the fantasizing begins, the football-istis starts spreading like wild Favre.

And when your husband has this shirt, then you know he's got it bad! And yes, believe it or not, my husband is a proud owner. Poor thing, football-itis has gotten so bad that it's spread to his ego.

Not to mention, he's braking out in a cold Gatorade sweat.


What's a girl to do? I'm just an innocent spectator watching from the sidelines. Don't get me wrong. I don't mind all the football hoopla. I'll root for my Carolina Panthers, even when they're not feeling the football fever themselves. What can I say? I'm a loyal fan. And a very very supportive wife. There are times when I'll fight through the pain and sit with my husband, asking him to break it down for me. Oh, the things you do for love. It's either that or I'll have no choice but to become a football widow til someone says they're going to Disney World.

So I'll sit & wait & I'll ride this wave out without interference.

After all, I did vowel to be here in sickness, even if the sickness is football-itis.

Yours (Truly!),
Miti