A little over two years ago I could have been defined as a body in motion. I never stopped moving. Literally. I was on my feet all the time, and my body responded accordingly by not gaining weight, by allowing me to eat anything I wanted and by feeling good. Fast forward a couple of years and things got a little softer, fluffier....okay, okay, fine, fatter. At first I blamed it on age. I had heard all too often that once that magic forty hit you, you could kiss your metabolism goodbye. So I resigned myself to the pudge. After all, it was only a few pounds. Okay, Okay, ten pounds.