Sunday, December 08, 2013
This is a comment on CHUBRUB3's blog, "Little White Lies."
As so often happens, my comment turned out to be longer than the blog it was attached to, so I moved it over here.
I dunno, Angela. There are times for truth, hard and cold, and there are times for gentleness.
On a good day, I'll describe myself as a slightly eccentric, middle-aged widowed lady of gently fading beauty, with terrific skin, great teeth and beautiful eyes, who could stand to lose a few pounds but still has killer legs, and probably ought to either find a lovely job or marry for money.
On another day, I'd describe myself as a crazy, fat old woman who should have stayed out of the sun more and will probably get skin cancer, needs a capped tooth recolored (roller skating accident half a century ago) and bifocals, can't wear heels because of her foot surgery, is unemployed and probably unemployable and would loathe anyone who could possibly find her acceptable, let alone attractive.
Which is true? Perhaps both, perhaps neither. If I ask you on a good day whether my coat is a good color for me or makes me look fat, well, I wouldn't ask you, because I know I look downright awesome. But if I ask you, tentatively, the same question on a bad day, please lie to me. For my sake, because I may dissolve in an embarrassing puddle of tears at your feet, or for yours, because I may haul off and slug you one. (No, not really, but verbally perhaps.)
When it comes to other people, I prefer the term "tact" to "lie", and no, I don't think they are the same thing. If you ask me if I like your new hat and I think you look like you've got a 'possum stapled to your head, I wouldn't tell you that. I'd say that it's a shame to cover up such beautiful hair as yours. If you ask me whether your new dress makes you look fat, I'll tell you that the color matches your eyes, bless your heart. You and I both know the truth is 'possum and yes, because if it were gorgeous and no, I'd be the first to rave about them. Because I'm your friend.
When it comes to ourselves, I think we need to be our own friends, too. We know whether it's time to take ourselves by the scruff of our necks and give ourselves a good shake, and when its time to wrap us in a chenille bathrobe and tackle our lives another day. And doing the second isn't lying, avoiding the truth or trying to deceive ourselves; it's giving ourselves what we need.
I did some backsliding myself in the last eight or so months, but I know I can get back on track and lose that much and more. Sure, I know the amount that I gained back is going to be tough to lose over again, and yes, I'm quite certain that those pants do make me look fat, because, frankly, I *am* fat. But I don't need to hear it from either one of us. And that's not a "little white lie", that's the truth.