Box of Smarties 1, Erin 0.

My plan to have a few Smarties to try to satisfy the chocolate craving at two-thirty this afternoon seriously backfired.

I started with a few in my hand and left the box on the table. I figured in doing this I would avoid eating the entire box because I would have to get off the couch to get more thus preventing me from eating more because really, who wants to get off the couch?

After sucking the last small candy - held in my hand only moments before - to a state of non-existence I caved and practically ran to the table. Clutching the box in my hand like my life depended on the contents, I returned to the sofa to eat the remaining Smarties in comfort and total bliss.

Now I have the guilt.

The guilt of eating a box of chocolate candies.

The whole box.

This wouldn't necessarily be a problem if my day hadn't started with a massive cherry cheese danish ... and possibly some kind of cinnamon twist pastry as well.

(Back off ... it was pastry day at my office - unofficially of course - and pastry day is sometimes the only thing that gets me through.)

But even as I sit here experiencing the "guilt" I am telling myself over and over that it's OK because I will exercise later.

Like a tape in my mind ... Don't worry, you can exercise later and work off all those extra calories.

Exactly. And besides, how is the baby supposed to grow and be all healthy in the womb and whatnot if I'm not eating my quota of fluffy melt in your mouth pastries and boxes of candy coated chocolate.

Right.

Riiiiiight.

And the guilt is back.

But the tape kicks in again and says ... Don't worry, just remember the elliptical machine you bought. You CAN exercise.

And suddenly, the guilt is gone.

I CAN exercise and work off all those extra calories and build strong muscles and keep in shape during this pregnancy. I can work out at home and I'll probably be thinner than I've ever been by the time I go into labour.

In fact ... I should make sure I have my pre-pregnancy jeans with me when I go to the hospital to deliver the baby because I'll be wearing them home ... with a belt to hold them up.

Maybe I should even treat myself to a new pair of jeans to take to the hospital. Some cute skinny jeans.

The only problem I can see in this whole scenario is that while I've bought the elliptical machine, I don't currently have it.

It's at a friends house ... waiting to be picked up.

It has been "waiting to be picked up" for about seven months now.

Actually, it was recently moved to a new location to make it that much easier for me to get. It's literally like across the path. I can see it if I look out my kitchen window and up at my friends apartment.

Sadly, the closer proximity of the elliptical machine only adds to the delusion I've created that in purchasing the equipment I'm somehow burning calories.

I act - and eat - as though the machine sits in my living room waiting to be used every night promptly at seven o'clock ... for forty-five minutes.

I will literally indulge myself on some deliriously good sweet or salty treat because in the back of my mind I know I bought an elliptical machine that I can work out on.

I see myself on it ... working hard ... sweating. And somehow I've convinced myself that I'm burning calories.

It's beyond insane. I know.

But I'm pregnant and my ankles are swollen already and I get winded walking up the stairs.

Working out in some random daydream is really the closest I'm going to get to actually working out ... and if I've somehow managed to convince myself that I can eat whatever I want because I can burn calories by imagining myself on an elliptical machine that I own (more or less) but don't currently have and this allows me to eat delicious and satisfying treats ... well ... I choose to stay insane and happy.