Scrapbook the bad stuff too.

I went to my first college football game Saturday and watched the University of Illinois against Penn State.  I don’t really like football much, but this was something on my list of “things to do before I die.”  I took a few pictures with the camera phone and saved our tickets, of course, so I could scrapbook all about it.  It was SO exciting I could hardly stand to watch.  The band’s halftime show was spectacular, and I’m not a lover of marching bands.  I was in awe the entire time.  Very enjoyable and I’m glad we went. 

Something else happened that was NOT so enjoyable.  That was the trip to our seats.  Well, the walk from the car to the football stadium nearly killed me.  And then once we got there we discovered we were on the opposite side of the stadium, so had to walk all the way around it.  Then once we got to the correct section we walked out (to a spectacular first look at the football field I must say!) and the attendant informed us we were “way up there.”  Are you kidding?  So we had to go back in and walk up ramps (thank God they weren’t stairs) all the way to the top balcony of the bleachers, come outside, and THEN walk up 3 flights of stairs. 

Okay, so  here’s the deal.  I waited 5 years to get in shape after my child was born.  I was going to the gym, not eating junk food every day, lost some weight and was feeling good.  Now I’ve recently miraculously managed to put on 70 pounds in the last year and a half.  I swear to you, it happened overnight.  I have never been this large in my life.  I have also never been this out of shape in my life.  I happen to be married to a man who is 30 years older than me, but he is in better shape then I am (even after heart surgery).  Isn’t that just WRONG?  (I’ll answer for you; yes it is.) 

Okay, so he’s in better shape, we’re late, already missed the kickoff, and he’s in a hurry to get to our seats.  He takes my hand and pulls me up what I’m pretty sure was about 8 flights of ramps (thank God they were not stairs; I cannot say it enough).  Quickly.  Did I mention how NOT in shape I am?  Anyway, I’m about to collapse by the time we get to the end of the ramps.  Then we go outside to the bleachers and have to walk up the 3 flights of steps.  Did I mention I’m also scared of heights?  Oh my lord, when I got the first glimpse of that football field from that high up, I thought I was going to faint.  Seriously.  So up the 3 flights of steps my husband starts to drag me.  We’re about halfway up and my legs are some serious jello.  I’m thinking I can’t make it.  The only thing that kept me going was the thought of having to sit down on those steps in front of all those people to rest, so I used every bit of strength to get to my seat.  And you know what I did when I got there? 

I cried.  My head was spinning from the view that high up.  My legs were jello.  My heart felt like it was going to pound out of my chest and throat.  I guess it just all overwhelmed me so much that my emotions couldn’t take it, I don’t know, but all I could do was sit there and cry.  My poor husband was flabbergasted.  Then I continued to cry because I was SO disgusted with myself for being so out of shape.  I am SO mad at myself for letting my weight get to this point.  I am not healthy at this weight.  I have high blood pressure, high cholesterol.  I’m only in my 30′s.  This is ridiculous.  And it’s very easy to get caught up in life and work and my daughter and not make time for me and forget about me and my body, but I can’t do it anymore.  Something has got to change.  Something has got to be done.  I’ve got to find the inner strength and motivation to lose the weight again, and now there’s MORE of it than the last time I lost weight.  It’s very intimidating. 

I guess my point here is that I had a great day doing something new and fun and exciting, but even on a great day something not-so-great happened and I want to scrapbook about BOTH things.  Because I think what happened that day (not the game) changed my perspective of myself.  And it’s going to change my life, so I want to document it.  I want to document the moment when my reality hit me like a ton of bricks (or a ton of ramps/stairs).   Sometimes that’s what it takes.  I want to document the moment so that I will NEVER forget it again.

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