The Littlest Lies

Had my first pilates session this morning. It's way tougher than yoga. My stomach is going to kill me tomorrow.

My ever-ambitious neighbor fixed up his front yard (he did his backyard a few months ago). Now my house looks ghetto from every angle. I said that to my neighbor and he lied and said "Oh, no it doesn't!"

It's the little lies that hurt the most because they're so obviously lies and they strike at the root of what really bothers us, er what really bothers me, no I mean the royal we, OK, maybe this is just my own personal damage.

For instance, all silly lies at the pilates studio. None of the instructors had seen me before I got pregnant. They have no idea what I used to look like -- so why lie and say how great I look and how my size 12 ass gives their size 2 asses hope? I don't look great. That's why I'm dropping serious cash for these sessions. Instead of saying how wonderful I look, why not just say "We're going to get you back into shape and you'll look better than you did before you got pregnant." That would make me truly happy. That would give me hope.

This weekend my neighbor and his fiance dug a hole in the 3x3 ground that is their front yard and put in a small goldfish pond (which is surely against our home owners association rules). My mother-in-law asked "Why a goldfish pond?" My answer: "Because they're young."

It felt good to say that. I think it was the truth too.