At a young age we’re taught that lying is a socially unacceptable act. In fact, in some circles it’s considered unforgivable. My mother must have done an especially good job at ingraining this rule in my mind, as I am pretty much incapable of telling a successful lie. Even if I attempt to fabricate a lie out of thin air my physiological response (intense blushing and perspiration) gives me away immediately. Or just as I gain the conviction to tell the lie, I change my mind on a dime and begin to spew the unadulterated truth, usually TMI. Yes, I occasionally partake in a white lie or two, in order to a) protect someone’s feelings b) save face, or c) avoid plans that I know I’m not going to keep – I’m only human after all. There is one type of lie, however, that I’ve become an absolute master of – lying to myself – something I imagine we’re all guilty of.
I will not buy any more sour candy
Reality: Upon Googling ‘Sour Watermelon Candy’ images, I am salivating and can’t imagine another day without it.
I have to leave the party early
Reality: End up being the last person to leave the party.
I’m gonna get up early and go for a run
Reality: Sleep in, and then enjoy a stack of delectable pancakes from the comfort of my very own bed.
I will not eat half the jar of peanut butter in 48 hours
Reality: I will eat the entire jar of peanut butter in 48 hours.
He likes me
Reality: He likes me not.
I’m just gonna stay for ONE drink, I mean it!
Reality: I can’t even remember that first drink I bought, but I do have an incriminating receipt for 2 shots of double Patron…
I’m NEVER using Tinder again
Reality: Go through the cycle of deleting and reinstalling the app at least 5 times a year.
You know what?
I don’t think we have anything to feel bad about if these are the lies we tell. Anyways, it’s better to believe the best in ourselves, right? Things could be worse.