Plus-sized models, lattes and staircases. Oh my?

Remember when I wrote my Dear John letter to big girl stores?  Well, even though I wrote it, I'm still getting mailers (no surprise).  A couple nights ago, the hubs picked up the mail and this card was in it.  He commented that at one time, I actually looked a bit like this girl, and it occurred to him that for one thing, I didn't anymore, and for another, I probably couldn't even shop at Lane Bryant any more.  I grinned and told him about my Dear John letter :)

a couple years and about 50 pounds ago

And then there's this.  It's something I realized this week.  My attitude toward food/fuel/intake is changing.  Slowly, like The Titanic attempting to execute a tight turn ... but still; it's changing.  Maybe this doesn't seem like a big deal to you, but it is to me.  There was only about a quarter of a cup left in the bottom of my latte mug and it was cold.  So I threw it out.  Keep in mind it wasn't a $5 drink I had paid for; it was a latte I had made in my own kitchen (yeah, yeah, I know I paid for it, but you know).  I guess my thinking was that I've had enough caffeine from it, I'm not hungry, and it doesn't actually taste good once it's cold, so ... why keep drinking those calories?  I don't need 'em.  And this wasn't the first time!  I bet I've changed "1 latte" to "3/4 serving" in loseit.com about 10 times in the last 2 months.  That's a lot of saved calories!  I know -- this isn't a big thing, really.  But in terms of all the times in my life I've finished a plate or a bowl or a something of something, just because it was in front of me?  It's a big thing :)  (I included the pic because it occurred to me I make really big lattes and this "small thing" might seem even smaller if you were picturing a smaller drink)

And here's another non-milestone milestone:  I used to knock myself out to stay upstairs or downstairs.  That is, when I left the upstairs, I'd carry everything with me I could think of that I'd need when I was on the main level.  And vice versa -- if I went upstairs, I wanted to be done downstairs.  Not have to run back down for something I forgot or didn't need once I got up there, regardless of what I'd planned in advance.  To spell it out:  I avoided the staircase like the plague.  It put me out of breath, it hurt my knees, it kind of hurt my back, and if I forgot something once I got up or down it; tough.  I'd just get that thing later or take care of it when I went back up or down for something bigger.  Yes, that's how out of shape I was - I avoided my own staircase.  Really.  Guess what?  Now it doesn't bother me at all.  I can run up or down it as much as I like or need to.  And if I forget something?  I view it as extra calories burned!  In a good way (not like "I don't have to work out because I went up one flight of stairs)!  If I get downstairs and realize I left something upstairs, I just run right back up and get it!

And you know what?  I had thought (but not mentioned to the hubs at all) about 3 or 4 years ago that we probably couldn't live in this house much longer based on the way my knees felt.  Yeah, right.  You see what I was thinking?  Let's get a ranch-style house because I'm too fat to take the stairs.  Let's move everything because I'm fat.  Let's leave a neighborhood we like and a fabulous view of the foothills because I'm fat.  I know some people don't like that word, but I use it to make a point.  And really?  I don't want to do any of those things because I'm overweight.  I only want to do those things when we're ready to buy a new house ... for whatever is the right reason at that time.  But certainly not because the stairs make my knees hurt.  Because frankly it was never the stairs making my knees hurt ...