This recent column at the Times suggests that fibbing - or exaggerating the truth, rather than inventing a wholly new fiction - is way easier to do than lying, and way less stressful on the body and mind and soul. I know, I know. The legalist in me wants to say that fibbing is lying, no matter how close to the truth. And that’s true, strictly speaking. But it happens, and it happens more than lying, and it’s easier to do. So, come clean: what have you fibbed about this week? I’m thinking. Let me think. Ah, yes. I fibbed to my wife about the color of paint she chose for the new baby’s room. It’s called “Pale Daffodil,” and is a plain yellowish hue. She asked, last night, if I liked it. I said yes. I don’t hate it. But it does look a little plain, a little too much like the color of an elementary school hallway. But I didn’t say that, because I don’t care. And if I had said it, she’d have spent another week looking for paint and painting - and she’s pregnant, and she needs to paint and be done with it. So, I fibbed. Did you?
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Don’t blame racism
Of course.
Actually that commandment is about bearing false witness about your neighbor, and stealing his good name.
Fibbing? Not so much.
Forget fibbing. You’re letting your pregnant wife paint?!? Just kidding. Kinda. My husband won’t let me paint when I’m expecting.
Anyway, I try not to lie (or fib) outright. Had it been me, I’d have found a way to express my unpleasant feelings in a truthful way w/o being hurtful. Like saying, “That’s fine. If you like it it works for me.” Or find something honest I can say without saying what I really feel. Like when my 5yo brings me some psychadelically colored picture that I think looks awful. I just say (in a bright, cheery voice), “Wow! That’s so colorful! You did a great job coloring in the lines!”
Having grace and tactfulness is knowing how to tell the truth without unduly offending the hearer.
I believe it can be done.
I think women ask questions with a lot more in mind than just getting a straight answer. Sometimes it’s just needing reassurance. Other times it’s to initiate more conversation to get to the real issue at hand.
Telling the truth for the sake of telling the truth without regards to how the words will be taken is often counter-productive. This is not to say that sin should not be called out as such but all those little things of life can be dealt with in a manner that is full of grace and truth. What would Jesus say is something I ask my children to think about.
Fibbing or white lies should be avoided because words really do matter. If the intention of the heart is to show love, then there has to be way to do it without saying words that are not the truth.
Several people asked me how I was feeling this morning.
I said, “Jes Fine”.
Good job, Harrison. Now she’ll read this post and go about re-painting because she thinks you don’t like it.
I told a co-worker that I didn’t know anything about a pending termination of another employee (he’s heard a rumor going around the office that someone is going to be fired). In fact I do know that it’s going down and who it is. Only the owner and myself know about it. If it got out, the owner would know immediately who leaked it. He’s my best buddy and I hate having to “demur” like that with him, but he’s not reliable for keeping quiet about stuff.
Sometimes it’s necessary. Like when you’re asked “does this dress make me look fat”. You know what happens if you say “yeah, a little”. So you simply say “no dear, it looks fine”. And it let’s you sleep in bed tonight, not on the couch.
Sorry you weren’t feeling well this morning Chas!
A couple of people in my workplace are experts at exaggerating just enough to ignite unnecessary urgency, but keeping it close enough to the truth such that, if you call them on it, you sound like you’re quibbing.
And I, sadly, am one of those people sometimes.
Just today, a fellow obstetrician found himself confounded by a difficult case and asked if I would be willing to help him. I told him I’d be happy to.
In the same vein, I’ve said “What a beautiful baby!” looking at some pretty homely kids.
#7 The Real AJ,
Women are expert at asking you questions just so they can get mad at you - if you don’t lie to them. I think they like being mad at you more than they like being happy about anything else.
They want to catch you lying about how fat their rear is rather than being proud of how honest you are. How can you win at that? I know it doesn’t help to say that her rear end is not as large as her mother’s. It doesn’t help to fake going into shock. a coma or having a seizure to escape answering. They will not sit still you either lie or tell the truth.
That is why they are from Venus and Men are from Mars. Venus is a very hot planet at nearly 900 degrees but I also know it doesn’t help in the least to remind the ladies, after they ask you one of these questions, if they think the temperature in Hades will suit them better than the temperature of where they come from.
It should be illegal for women to ask these questions and God should strike them down or at least muss their hair up some with a strong foul smelling wind or something
Anlir, that’s keeping a confidence, not fibbing or lying.
Ok, lying is lying. Fibbing is lying. Telling half-truths is lying. Who are we kidding here?
Man up, and tell the truth, no matter what.
Maybe Dav isn’t married?
#13, I’m married. I just don’t believe in lying to my wife. Not even “white lies” or “fibbing”. Lying is lying. Period.
Better to get the truth out on the table and get it over with than have to remember some tall tale and stick with it.
Dav,
If my wife wants to hear that she’s beautiful, then she gets to hear it from me.
I do try to avoid “white lies.” If a co-worker had asked me the question to Anlir, for instance (and I’ve been in those situations), I would have simply told him I wasn’t the person he should ask.
I once kept quiet when my mom was told a “white lie” that was in her best interest, though. She was going in for heart surgery, and several times the day or two before the surgery, she told me the doctors had emphasized that her risk of dying on the table was higher than average. The night before her surgery, the anesthesiologist came by when I was out in the hallway. I told him about her concern, and told him that it wasn’t helping her head into surgery. He told me that the hospital had done this number (several hundred) open-heart surgeries that year, and lost very few patients. I asked him if he could please talk with Mom and cheer her up. So he went into the room, and told her the same thing he’d told me…except that instead of telling her they’d lost “very few” patients, he told her they “hadn’t lost ANY.” For the rest of the evening, she repeated that reassurance and said she was unlikely to be the first one they’d lose. And I didn’t tell her what he’d said the first time!
I thought she was exaggerating the doctors’ doom and gloom. But sure enough, the next day as her husband and I were telling her goodbye as they were literally wheeling her in for surgery, the doctor came to her and said, “Now, listen, we’re going to have a hard time pulling you out from anesthesia. We’re going to do our best, and we have extra measures in place just for you, but it isn’t going to be easy.” I knew if he said that minutes before she was put under, that her reports of earlier conversations weren’t exaggerated! (And she was indeed “out” longer than she really should have been, but she did come out, and lived a couple more years. But I wanted to strangle the doctor for that last-minute naysaying.)
So, Dav, you’ll tell her the dress makes her look fat? Life with you must be a barrel of monkeys!
Another example. Sometimes it’s appropriate to say “I’m not mad” when the real truth is “I’m mad but I know I shouldn’t be and I’m kind of embarrassed about it, so I’ll say I’m not mad and, given a little time, I won’t be mad any more.”
My husband says I am honest to a fault. Not so much because I feel obligated to do so, as simply that’s how I am. My mother always took great pride in how honest her kids were. (Though as a child I did sometimes lie about having brushed my teeth or taken my vitamins when I hadn’t.) She was definitely “honest to a fault” herself, and didn’t know when to remain silent rather than saying exactly what she thought.
The one thing I do find myself doing sometimes, for instance when writing comments here, is to simplify a complicated situation rather than trying to explain the details, when the details are not important to what I’m trying to say and would only make it confusing. For instance, if I’m mentioning my experiences as a classroom teacher, I usually say that I taught one year. Actually, I had a part-time position as an “intern” right out of college. It did not go well, so after the one year I went to grad school to get a Masters degree and learn more about both the subject (Spanish) and how to teach it. Then I got a full-time position at another school (which went worse, and after a year I was relieved to quit, and the school was no doubt relieved also). And that year is the one I talk about (if there is a reason to say anything about such unpleasant memories). If someone specifically asked me about my teaching experience, I would mention both. But if I am bring it up as an incidental example of something, I don’t try to explain all that.
I don’t struggle with weight, but I’ve never understood the “does this dress make me look fat?” issue. If my sister were to ask me that (granted, she’s my sister and not my wife), I’d assume she wants an honest opinion, and would rather have me tell her “yes” if it does, than have her wear it and have everyone else that evening think she has gained weight! (But then, my sister sometimes shows me her teeth after a meal so that I can tell her if there’s anything stuck in them, so maybe she’s different!)
Now, if someone were to ask if her dress made her look fat, and I thought it did, I’d try to say it nicely: “It may add a little to your middle, but I think the color is great on you” or something like that.
I’m with Cheryl on the “Does this make me look fat?’question. I have never asked DH that one. There have been times when I cooked something that I thought was not that good, so I would ask what he thought of it. If his response was “I’ve tasted better,” I knew to throw that recipe away! I asked, he is honest and I’m not offended.
We don’t play silly games with questions that try to trap the other person.
I don’t ask “does this make me look fat” either, but I don’t think the people who do are trying to trap anyone. They’re looking for reassurance. They are afraid they look fat - they look fat to themselves and are afraid they will to others, but hope that perhaps they will not. I think it’s rather like asking another leader at Sunday School, after I have taught a lesson where the kids kept fidgeting and had to be told several times to be quiet, “Do you think that went OK?” I’m not going to be upset if she gives constructive criticism, but that’s not what I’m looking for at that point.
Good point Pauline. It could be they are not trying to trap someone, and as you say need reassurance, but it very well could turn out to be one, even if it was unintentional. So we must be careful of how we word the questions. That may not be easy either.
I guess I’m seeing the “Does this make me look fat?” as a question about the dress, nothing personal. If a wife asks, “Do I look fat these days?” I can see that she might be looking for reassurance. But if I ask, “Does this blouse make me look too pale?” it’s because I think it might, and I want an honest answer, not reassurance that it doesn’t.
Justus walks up to The realAJ and asks him, “AJ, does this shirt make me look fat?”
AJ: “No, JJ, it’s the fat that makes YOU look fat!”
You should never lie to your wife. You should just be CLEVER about answering.
For instance, if my wife asks “Honey, did you take out the garbage?”
Clever answer: “Yep.” (I took it out last month.)
Or if she asks “Did you eat all the cookies again?”
Clever answer: “Nope.” (I ate all but one, which I am keeping in the breast pocket of my overalls for emergency use in case I have a sinking spell.)
Or, maybe she asks “Where WERE you all yesterday afternoon?”
Clever answer: “I was helping Roy inventory his stock.” (Roy and me were fishing in his pond and lazying around in the shade of the trees drinking soda pop and swapping tall tales - he has his pond stocked with trout, or claims he does, although all I ever see in it are bad-tempered snapping turtles.)
Or (she asks): “Why is there dirt and mud ALL OVER the seats of my car?”
Clever answer: “I gave a lift to three poor dejected wretches I found wandering on the county road; they were footsore and tired and dirty - I could hardly call myself a Christian and not stop and pick them up. Like I told you, when the economy goes bad, there are more and more poor souls out on the road that need charity.” (Three of my dogs were out on the county road and it was raining and they were plumb wore out from chasing rabbits and getting into the neighbors gardens and rolling in manure piles, so I felt sorry for them and invited them into her car for a ride home. It was not my fault they didn’t wipe their feet before jumping in - teaching children and animals manners is my wife’s job, anyway.)
If you are clever, you don’t have to lie, and you can STILL get away with a LOT.
Drill, and she actually takes you at face value, right? Riiight.
Hi Cheryl D.: After several decades, my wife has the uncanny ability to know when I am weaseling, no matter HOW utterly sincere and Boy-Scoutish I manage to talk - or look.
So I cannot get away with anything, anymore, contrary to all my blustering and bragging.
Cheryl D: Seeing your gravitar (is that what it is called?) makes me almost weep. This weekend we lost our old collie; he had a stroke on Friday night and completely lost the ability to walk and was in pain and suffering. I have had collies (or more accurately they have had me) continously for over fifty years, and I grew up with them too. This is the first time without a collie in my life (we have other dogs and they are wonderful but I sure miss Star - we called him that due to a white spot on his forehead.)
Perhaps I am a heathen for thinking it (the more sour dour-faced brethren in my life assure me that I am in great danger - ???), but I believe that God will take care of His dogs (and all His other creatures, too).
I have buried so many of these dogs and it just gets harder and harder the older I get. A small trivial thing to some, I know, but not to me.
Drill,
We are the sewards of God’s creation, which includes creatures, and we are called to take care of it. He has a plan for those creatures, it is just not revealed to us.
‘He sustains all things by His powerful Word.’ Heb. 1:3
Drill,
You’ve mentioned your old dog before, that that day was coming. I’m sorry, and I can imagine it is very hard. If I could, I’d bring Misten over to quietly sit next to you and lick your face.
Grandma: Thanks for those kind and true words of encouragement. God is the Creator and the Sustainer. He is the Author of all that is good. I have never lost a child wrenching thing
Cheryl: Thanks. This weekend was hard on all of us here. It seems the older I get, the less resilient I become on this sort of thing. I find myself subconsciously listening for his bark or for the sound of him tottering around the kitchen (we kept him in during nights this winter, to keep him out of the cold). He was always happy to see me and of late would just press his head up against my leg really hard and not want me to leave. Give Misten a hug.
God is good to give us such friends and companions. It is just hard when He takes them home.
People who talk about their stark refusal to shade the truth as if it were a supreme virtue are incomprehensible to me. You would admit you’re cold when your friend is shivering and needs your jacket? You’d never say go ahead, have my sandwich, I’m not hungry, when you were? You’d tell the krauts there’s a Jew in the attic? You’d spoil someone’s fun by admitting you don’t want to be where you are?
And furthermore, anyone who claims to be 100% honest all the time is lying to himself.
DRill,
I’m sorry for your loss.