Letting myself go.....

Things have been a bit nuts here in the Moose household for the past few weeks.

An unexpected visit from my husband at Thanksgiving was great but threw our toddler's schedule into a such a tizzy it's left mommy a sleep-deprived shrieking shrew the past few weeks.

Nothing says Suzy Homemaker like two hours of sleep with a side of night terrors for two weeks straight.

So what do I do with myself during these sleepless hours?

Clean - NO
Crochet - NO
Compose symphonies in sync with my toddler's tantrums - NO

Instead, I read useless celebrity gossip on the computer.
Why?
Because it makes me feel somewhat better about my pathetic existence. Nothing makes me better to be a chubby housewife than reading about Madonna's 76 million dollar divorce or what Nick Lachey and his family ate for dinner at a restaurant

But there are times when I come across something that just makes my chubtastic butt madder than a neutered Charlie Sheen.

A few days ago I came across a People Magazine article about Michael Phelps. Being a former competitive swimmer plus the fact that well.... hell.... he's just plain HOT, I of course couldn't resist reading it.

Unfortunately, instead of leaving me feeling giddier than Nicole Richie eating a cheeseburger, this article made me feel like poo.

According to People, Michael Phelps is "Letting himself go."

Why?

Because the fat ass is apparently tipping the scales at 205 pounds and taking "a break" from his training schedule.

WTH?!!

If Michael Phelps, a 6 ft plus swimmer is letting himself go at 205 pounds than I - a 5-ft-3-inch 203-pounds SAHM - have not only let myself go, I've hailed a cab and found myself sipping Mai Tais and scarfing down pizza in Blubberville.

It's bad enough I feel like the wart on the underside of a Monkey's ding dong most days when I look in the mirror. It's even worse when I read things like this, condemning someone for actually looking NORMAL.

Weight is only a number.
Just because Phelps isn't at the peak of Olympic fitness right now doesn't mean he's an overweight lazybutt.

He's probably in better shape at 205 pounds than I ever was at 135 pounds. I could only dream to have that kind of physical fitness.

I'm slowly working on getting in better shape. It's going to be a long haul and filled with frustration and probably a few french fries, but I'm not going to let articles like this eat at my confidence anymore.

I'm fat.
I know it.
I'm dealing with it.
Get over it.