In most things in life this is a good rule of thumb and for some it’s even a core value in which they live each day.
I, on the other hand, am a liar.
Little white lies mostly but one of my best and most consistent lies is the one that creeps from my mouth when I’m asked my weight. I’m not a slight and frail little woman so I know I can’t get away with saying I weigh 110lbs or some silliness like that. The weight (lie) that I usually tell is an amount that the person would believe when looking at me. So it’s got to strike a healthy balance between judgy looks over a clearly too low number vs. my actual weight causing the person a minor heart attack. I’ve found the happy medium that seems to be publicly accepted by the Driver’s Licensing Department, carnival ride operators, my family doctor and rude 8 year old kids.
So when on the phone with the anesthesiologist’s nurse leading up to this Friday’s surgery my lie weight almost came out off my tongue out of habit. And for a split second I realized that if I gave her that number I would likely wake up halfway through them lopping off my body parts. Hmmm not ideal. So I dug deep and for the first time I proudly and clearly gave my actual weight.
To the damn ounce.
Maybe it’s a sign that I’m turning a more honest leaf, but probably not.