Busted. Here’s how it went down….
I had been pestering hubby Greg to start putting out on the dresser his clothes, and his everyday “must-haves”, for the next day before he climbed into bed each night. He’s a grown man, and he can certainly dress himself, but I had become weary of the o’dark-thirty mad dash around the bedroom in search of matching socks, shoes, cell phone, car keys, belt, etc. He had obliged and it had been working out pretty well… until last week.
On a recent early morning, all snuggled up under the covers, I groggily started to awaken as the hubby was grumbling and bumping around the bedroom. I soon realized that he was muttering: “Dammit, where is it… I know I laid that out with my clothes…”
He was clearly on the hunt for ….something.
“OK, honey, what are you looking for?” I mumbled.
“My under-shirt,” he replied. “How can an under-shirt just up and walk away?”
Lying there, up under the covers, it slowly occurred to me: I was wearing his under-shirt. I had stayed up late the night before, watching Jimmy Fallon, and I had just grabbed it off the dresser before I jumped into bed. Did I ‘fess up? Oh, hell no.
“Well, just get another one out of the bureau,” said the gal lying there in the comfy white cotton under-shirt with the quilt pulled up to her chin.
“Fine, I’m really trying to make a peaceful exit outta here in the mornings. Sorry.”
He said sorry … to me.
Because I am a big believer in karma and the universal righting of wrongs, I did come clean as soon as he walked in the door that night and I apologized … a lot. He thought it was funny; yep, have I told you lately how cool my husband is?
I had another recent occasion where a little lie came back to haunt me. Well, it’s not exactly a lie, it’s more like an on-going sight gag. Back in my early forties, I used to joke: “Hey, don’t I look great …for fifty?” I said this so often that it became a running joke.
I turned forty-nine this past year and I made a comment about having one more year before I joined Club Fifty. My brother-in-law replied; “Wait a minute, I’ve heard you make jokes about looking great for fifty for awhile… what do you mean you’re not yet fifty?”
Ummm …. OUCH!!! Funny, but, really?! Have I now put myself in the position to have to change my tune to: “Don’t I look great… for sixty?” Well I got no one to blame but the gal in the mirror for this one.
If you’ve read my book, then you know that one of the stories included is titled: “Why It’s Always Stupid to Play Stupid” and focuses on how I once got myself backed into a corner by forgetting the name of a spouse of a colleague. The situation turned into an “I Love Lucy” episode gone bad. So I certainly have some experience when it comes to this little white lie dilemma.
I do have a few personal rules about this subject.
- It is ALWAYS OK to lie about babies. There was a great Seinfeld episode (honestly, weren’t they all great?) where the gang was stressing about attending a bris where the baby was portrayed as less than beautiful. OK, ALL babies are beautiful, but, I can see where from time to time you might come across a little one who may not be your ideal of beauty. DO NOT BE HONEST here. If all else fails, go with: “That’s a fine baby.” This is the equivalent of “bless your heart” in the south; kind of a linguistic get-out-jail free card.
- It’s OK to lie about your weight… or your height. All women want to weigh 125 lbs and all men want to be six feet tall. So be it. Some will argue that we should learn to be happy with who we are, no matter our weight or height. Well, good for you. For the rest of us, yes, I weigh 125 lbs…
- It’s OK to tell a little fib about how much you paid for a dress or pair of shoes. However, be warned: don’t ever ask me how much I paid for a dress. My mama taught me that asking how much something costs is rude (but I get that this might just be a southern thing). My go-to response to this question, which is not a lie, is: “It cost enough.” But if you feel the need to lie a little here, go ahead, you have my permission.
- It’s almost never OK to lie to your spouse; especially about money, sex, or kids. If anyone can give me a good reason to alter this rule, I’m all ears.
Look forward to your responses; and that’s not a little white lie.