I Never Lie. (Okay, That’s A Lie.)
Lies I Have Told - And Why I Stopped
It’s a lot of pressure being married to someone who never lies. Especially for me, as I’ve been known to resort to a fib—maybe once or twice.
Like the time I was late to a dinner because my playlist shuffled up a string of great songs, and I stopped getting dressed to grab my hairbrush and belt out several off-key renditions… but I said it was because my site went down.
Other lies I’ve told:
Whether I was sent home from a party with a cupcake for Craig
How long it took me to work out how to open the pump on my body lotion
The real reason I wore a large cameo brooch (circa 2018) on my white top
You can generally pick my lies a mile off. They come with extensive backstories, detailed but irrelevant sub-plots, colorful characters (many with strong potential for spin-off lies), and occasionally, small cliffhangers that accelerate the action towards the lie itself.
Usually by the time I tell the lie I’m exhausted, the lie-ee is stunned by the sheer overkill they’ve just witnessed, and we enter a tacit agreement to abruptly change the subject.
But although I still engage in the occasional face-saving fib, I’ve stopped telling nice lies.
No More Nice Lie
The nice lie is the one you tell, ostensibly, to protect someone else’s feelings.
Craig never tells nice lies. If I ask Do I look bad in this?, he will appraise my outfit and, if I do, he’ll say Yes.
At first, I found his subversive unwillingness to tell peace-keeping porkies to be the height of rudeness.
But over time I’ve come to appreciate two benefits of neither hearing nor telling nice lies.
1. Hearing the truth is empowering.
As Gloria Steinem said, The truth will set you free, but first it will piss you off.
When people lie to protect your feelings, they aren’t changing reality in your favor—they’re simply excluding you from The Way Things Are.
Being told the truth, on the other hand—although it may sting—gives you valuable, actionable information. If you don’t like what you hear, you can do something about it. You can change things, or work at accepting them. You have options.
But if you stick your head in the sand, you’re left to carry on as you are—oblivious to the fact that your butt is poking out.
2. Telling the truth is empowering.
There’s a line from a Black Eyed Peas song that comes to mind. No, not My hump, my hump, my hump, my lovely lady lumps—though that line has its own poetry.
I was thinking of: And I lie and I lie till I don’t know who I am, from Don’t Lie.
Because when you hear yourself telling lies, you undermine your sense of identity.
What you think, what’s true for you—that’s a big part of who you are. If you don’t own that truth, then you’re mortgaging a part of yourself.
Aim for Kindness, Not Niceness
In A Chic Year: 52 Style, Simplicity, & Self-Care Projects, we spend one week focusing on being kind rather than nice—and it’s a shortcut to honesty.
When I try to be nice, I fall into the lying game.
No, it’s delicious; I’m only spitting it into my napkin because it tasted too good.
OMG, you look amazing.
Don’t fool yourself that being nice is about protecting the other person. Being nice is about wanting people to like you. That’s what I realized when I did it—it’s selfish.
But when I aim to be kind, I can always find a way to be honest and compassionate.
It’s a little too sweet for me.
The color is really flattering, but I wonder if it might look better if you go up a size.
Being kind is genuinely about the other person—trusting them to handle the truth, and delivering it in a way that’s both caring and respectful.
And in that same spirit… if you see Craig, don’t mention the cupcake.
What about you? Do you tell ‘nice’ lies? How does it make you feel?
To more kindness, less niceness,
Michele
PS I’m settling on a frequency of every-second Tuesday for this Substack. It feels respectful of your time and sustainable for me. What do you think? Let me know in the comments.