Liar, Liar, Pants Aren’t Getting Any Smaller.

July 26, 2011 at 6:31 am Leave a comment

I am a freelance writer.  People and businesses pay me to create articles, to craft an image, to paint a picture with words.  It’s not a bad way to draw a paycheck.

Yet some of the best stories are the ones I tell myself.

I’m a liar.  My diet and exercise journal just may be the best work of fiction I’ve ever produced.  I stand on the scale each week and declare for everyone to hear, “But I was so good! I tracked every calorie in and every calorie out!  The scale hates me!!  This program doesn’t work!!”

The scale doesn’t hate me.  The scale merely calls me on my lies.

But what kind of lies do I tell myself?

  • That my portions – which I “measured” via eyeball and not actual measuring cup – are accurate.
  • That I burned 231 calories with “swimming, leisurely, general,” when in reality I laid in the 3′ pool while my children splashed about, not unlike the hippo at the zoo who is loathe to move once he is submerged.
  •  That I wrote down everything.  Hey, self, where’s your entry for the seven – SEVEN – Double Stuf Oreos you hoovered before bed last night?  I don’t see those in the journal.
Truth is – well, I don’t know that I want to know the truth.  Facing the truth means I have to do the hard work.  Being honest means admitting to myself that I don’t have my act together.  Giving up my lies feels like giving up my armor and makes me vulnerable.
Which is where I need to be for real change to take place.   And the truth is that I’m scared of where the change will take me.  But I’m also scared of what will happen – to me, to my family – if I don’t change.  And that’s no lie.
Reprinted from my blog on  If you’re a member, friend me – I’m amyjhwk98.

Entry filed under: A weighty matter.

Information overload. I think I was 30 before I knew what a download was.

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