No You Don’t Look Fat, and Other Lies

Telling lies is part of the fabric of being human. People, especially politicians, lie to inflate their image, others lie to gain unjust rewards, and sometimes people lie simply because it’s easier than telling the truth. ‘Harmless’ social lies fall into this last category—telling small white lies is a deeply ingrained human habit that we all practice, and don’t make much of an effort to stop.

But I’ve decided to change all that, at least in my own life—single handedly, I’ve decided, I’m going to right the ship, by being extra honest, never lying, always telling the truth, no matter what the consequences might be. It’s a difficult decision, but an admirable one, I tell myself..

Psychological experts, I’m happy to say, support this measure as well, according to an article in Psychology Today, which says:

“…you can take chances on the people you care about by being a lot more honest and direct with them. You can find healthy and considerate ways to express yourself and to be sensitive to the other person’s sense of reality. The truth may not always be easy to hear, but in the long-term, you will earn a lot more trust and respect from the people whose opinion you value the most.”

My new approach to social lying

Yesterday morning, for example, I was entering the elevator, on my way to the car, when I heard a chirpy voice behind me, “Hi Diane, how are you?”

I freeze. It’s Bert, from the 4th floor. What can I say and still be true to my new resolve?

“I’m—okay, I guess, but I’m busier than I want to be—too many things on my list today.” It’s lame, I admit, but it isn’t lying.

“Oh,” he says, “Well, best get going and do them!” he laughs.

Whew, that went okay. What if he wanted to talk, ask me what I had on my list? (I had nothing.)  This is going to be harder than I thought.

The next day, an acquaintance from a near-by building stopped me in the car park.

She was ebullient, bubbling with enthusiasm about something.

“Hi Diane,” she said, “I’ve just come back from my esthetician. She always gives me such an excellent facial.”

“Well, it shows, Maggie.” I respond truthfully. It actually did show, the esthetician left a bit of the clay mask on her chin, in plain sight.

“Yes, it makes me feel so good, so young.” She pauses, expecting more—something about how young she looks, probably. I panic. What can I say? Before I can respond, though, she asks,

“How old do you think I am?”

“Young, Irene,” I fumble, “really, really young.” I make a quick escape as she reaches out, narrowly catching my sleeve.

This brings me to someone who was in my life once, but isn’t anymore, for reasons that will become obvious. He was habitually tardy, sometimes more than 30 minutes late. On this particular day, we had arranged to meet for lunch. Usually, when he was late, he would laugh and toss off a ‘Sorry’, and I’d say something like, ‘Oh, that’s okay’.

But on this particular day, I had decided not to pretend I was fine with it, to tell him the truth. When he finally turned up, 20 minutes late, while I cooled my heels, I said, in my best ‘counseling’ voice,

“I need to tell you that being so late is not okay with me, Jack. I feel a little insulted every time…….”

Well, he was back in his car before I could finish my sentence, gone for good.

And then there’s Arlene, who put me on the spot the other day, while we were shopping. She was trying on a pair of jeans, and came out of the dressing room, asking,

“What do you think of these jeans? Do they make me look fat?”

It’s a classic trip-up, and seriously put me on the spot. I answered as honestly as I could, saying,

“It’s not you, it’s the jeans, they seem a bit tight across the hips.”

“So they do make me look fat?” she snapped.

I firmly shut my mouth. She whirled back into the dressing room to change. Needless to say,  we had a tense car ride home.

Follow the example of innocent, natural truth tellers:

I wish I could do better. I wish I could do as well as most three-year-olds, who tell the truth as naturally as breathing. Children can teach us a lot about honesty. They are pure and innocent of social lying, and will tell you the truth about almost anything.

Young children will point out, without a moments’ hesitation, that you are losing your hair, that your hearing aids are ugly, that your hands look as if you are wearing wrinkled gloves.

And who hasn’t had the experience of sitting in a quiet doctors’ office and hearing a small child, who had been playing on the floor with the provided Lego, stop, look around and  say, in a high, piercing  voice:

“Mummy, why does that lady have so much black hair on her legs?”

Now that’s honesty, in its purest, most unadulterated form.

Some quotes to ponder:

Politeness is half good manners and half good lying. Mary Wilson Little

I have been through some terrible things in my life, some of which actually happened. Mark Twain

A lie gets halfway around the world before the truth has a chance to get its pants on. Winston Churchill

I have a friend; he keeps trying to convince me he’s a compulsive liar, but I don’t believe him. Ben Bailey

Parents are embarrassed when their children tell lies, and even more embarrassed when they tell the truth.
Anonymous

My wife said: ‘I want an explanation and I want the truth.’ I said: ‘Make up your mind.’ Henny Youngman

There are only two ways of telling the complete truth – anonymously and posthumously.
Thomas Sowell