There’s the “it’s easier if you don’t know the truth” lie (“No, really, that looks great on you….”) the “I don’t want to talk” lie (“I’m fine, now drop it”), the “get out of stuff lie” (“Something came up, sorry!”.
But my all-time favorite is the “oh shit, I’m in trouble” lie. These are the best because once you start, you just can’t stop. It’s like quick sand; you just keep getting sucked deeper and deeper until you can’t climb your way out. Even when you know you’re totally busted, you just can’t seem to stop. LORDY, THE WORD VOMIT.
My hall of famer in this category was claimed by my third grade self. A little background for you, science and I hate each other. Probably closer to despise. Loath. Even in my tot years, I just didn’t get it. We were on the dinosaur chapter, and I was just lost. I mean, think about it. How is a 9 year old supposed to wrap her head around the idea of an enormous creature that just doesn’t exist anymore? The beasts just vanished. I still can’t wrap my head around it, in all honesty.
Anyways, at the end of the chapter, we had a test. And it was HARD. I remember nervously rearranging all 2,800 lip glosses that were lined up inside of my desk (a girl’s gotta have options) as I waited for my teacher to waddle, literally, her way over to me to hand back my graded test. Talk about a mental image. When she finally plopped it down in front of me, I slowly turned it over to peak. On the top of the page was a big, fat, red F. As the tears started forming in my sweet little eyeballs, my mind raced to how I was going to explain this to my mom. And I came up with the perfect idea. I would turn the F into an E. E comes before F, so obviously it’s not as bad! I mean, it’s still bad. But it’s not F bad. And if it’s not F bad, maybe mom won’t kill me. I mean, I have a red pen. I can totally do this! So I took out that red pen and sneakily added that extra line at the bottom to magically transform that dooming letter. Of course, our teacher made us bring our tests back the next day signed by a parent. What would I do when she noticed an E at the top of my paper? Hadn’t quite figured that out yet. But I’d cross that bridge when I got to it.
Later that night as my mom was sitting on the couch, I came to her with my test in my shaky hands. Before I even handed it to her, I lost it. I was balling. I started to explain how hard the test was and that I didn’t understand what was going on. And then I hit her with the bomb: “I got an E!” She started laughing, naturally, and asked me to repeat myself. Between sobs, I managed to say “E”. She also somehow managed to get out, in between laughs, “Honey, I don’t think that’s a thing. They don’t give E’s” “BUT MRS. GALLO DOES!”, I fiercely rebuttled.
I don’t remember what happened after that, but I’m here to tell the tale, so it must not have been that bad. But it’s funny, we all still think we can get away with the lies we tell, no matter how bad or how poorly planned. I just remember how confident I was that this would work; I could totally pull this one over on her. What a fully, weird little knobby kneed girl I was. A dinosaur-hating girl, at that.