You can yell at me.
You can call me a bitch or a jerk or a shithead if you want. (But please don’t tell me I look fat: that slays me.)
You can tell me you think my outfit is ugly, my hair is too big or my opinion is stupid.
You can even tell me that I out and out suck.
You cannot, however, lie to me. Like ever.
For starters: I will always find out the truth. Trust me. And if you don’t believe me, ask my kids.
I promise that, every.single.time, I will be far more incensed by a lie than anything you might have done that you felt the need to lie about.
And, remember, there will never be an instance where I don’t eventually learn the truth.
I will even give you repeated opportunities to come clean. In fact, I will give you more than the average bear. Way more.
My superpower: I always find out the truth.
In my world, lying is the worst.
Little white lies: “I wish I could come to your Pampered Chef party but I have to wash my hair…” or “Don’t worry, no one else heard the little toot that slipped out…” : those are cool, bring it!
Lies = disrespect.
Do. Not. Lie.
It erodes trust.
And it pisses me off beyond belief.
p.s. It is not Barry. He knows better.