LIAR, LIAR. PANTS ON FIRE. Have you ever lied about your age is today’s question. I struggle with telling even small white lies. A job counselor recently suggested I dye my hair and wear more make-up so I would look younger. Also told me go back only five years on my resume and drop the dates when I graduated from high school, college and graduate school. Didn’t follow her advice. Felt I would be marked as someone trying to get over if I was offered an interview. Her point was that would get me an interview and “Then you could sell yourself.” Not good at selling me and definitely not after feeling I was putting something over on someone.
Being me is one of my core values. As Sammy David sang so loudly “I gotta be me.” Guess that’s why I never dyed my hair. Sometimes I put on a little make-up. When I was hawking my books: When Good Kids Do Bad Things and Parents Are People Too, I was Oprah, Maurie, Geraldo, and Sally R (Don’t remember how to spell her last name–and she lied to the kids I was on the show with.) And by the way Geraldo was the one who was really great with the kids. I did wear make up for these shows. Did make me look more sparkling and professional–that and the clothes the publicity person at Norton made me buy. She also had Norton pay something outrageous to have my styled by Frédéric Fekkai. (She had a crush on him and he is one sexy looking guy, but didn’t give a very good hair cut. I lost her good will by reporting he said nothing more than “Hmmm, hmmm” when I mentioined her name. )
I was later told I didn’t get a job I wanted because I didn’t dress corporate enough. So I guess lying might get you ahead in the world; certainly it gets lots of teen’s alcohol.
Moreover, I hate being lied to. Lying destroys relationships as far as I am concerned. When I was a young almost hot thing out on the dating grid, I found men who swore they loved me at first sight made me very uncomfortable. They didn’t love me, they loved their idea of someone. One of the best things about my husband of 40 some years is he loves me for me and he sees me, good bad, indifferent and ugly.
So no I have never lied about my age.
Confession. I am also a terrible liar. I blush if lying. Does keep me straight and I am not sure which came first my blushing or my rigid adherence to telling the truth.
Another confession: I was such a good two shoes in my teen and early adult years that it never occurred to me to want to drink until I was of age.
Another confession, now that I am on the downhill slope and about to celebrate my 74th birthday, I brag a bit about it and make joke of it. The joking keeps me from becoming invisible. At a certain age, you do tend to get an invisibility cloak in Western society, particularly with young folk, and I do love young folk and making them laugh.
Do I care that others lie about their age. No. Different ways for different people. O do find it somewhat sad, however, that our society has made such a fetish of youth and looking young. We all grow old and it isn’t the worse thing that can happen. Stay strong.