Liar, Liar

Today I came across this very interesting article about lying. You may want to read it, as well. But if not, it essentially confirms that we, as a species, are prone to lying. We often are rewarded for our lies. We think we can tell when we are being lied to, but – alas – we cannot.

I like to think of myself as an honest person. I don’t cheat on my taxes (I did this year, however, accidentally over-report how much I paid on state income tax, but it was an accounting mistake, not an attempt at forgery. I mean, really, if I were going to cheat on my taxes I’d be more creative than $100. Just being…you know…honest). I generally take responsibility for when I screw something up. If a friend asks if her pants make her look fat, and they do, I’ll tell her… in a very gentle way (“let me see that first pair you tired on again”).

However, I am not a pillar of all things good and true. Just this morning I lied to my son about not knowing if I had any suckers. In fact, “I don’t know” is my default lie for most of his questions.

Then I lie to myself. I say I’m going to eat more healthily, until I see the ice cream. I say I’m going to work less and live more simply, then I accept every project that comes my way. I tell myself that I would be happier if I would just _____, but I know that happiness doesn’t lie just around the corner, but in being content with what I have now.

I am fortunate to have a husband and at least one good friend who are refreshingly honest. Sometimes it stings a little, but at least I’m never guessing where I stand with them.

So why is it we lie? The article suggested evolutionary “play dead” origins, but we don’t just lie to survive. Our motives are much less life-or-death than that.

I hereby declare to try to be more honest. With you, with myself, and with my kids (even if suckers are involved).
If you see me with a cookie in my mouth, just let it go, though, ok?