Weighty Lies

When is it okay to lie?

This is one of those questions designed to reveal someone’s personality and values. A common answer is: “To spare someone’s feelings.”

My answer is the not so noble: when it pertains to weight.

Hubby and I have always had a silly cat/mouse-type game about the subject. Years ago when we were in Texas, I was pulled over for speeding (allegedly). The police officer held his flashlight on my driver’s license and asked, “How much do you weigh?” Which barbarically enough was listed on our Florida driver’s licenses back in the 90s.

“One thirty,” I said.

“Well,” hubby said as we drove away. “Now I know!”

“I didn’t tell him how much I weigh,” I said. “I told him what it says on my driver’s license.”

I have never told the truth about my weight, and I don’t intend to start now. There, I said it.

While out to dinner with friends recently, one of them (a man, of course), asked everyone “How much more do you weigh now than you did in high school?”

I blurted out: twelve pounds.

Now, in hindsight (and if I had been drinking), I would answer in an entirely different manner.

On the way home, hubby said, “You were pretty quick to answer that weight question.”

“Well, you know I didn’t tell the truth, right?”

“Of course I do,” he said.

I do feel a little better knowing that most people lie about their weight (https://www.livescience.com/18206-people-lie-weight-surveys.html).

But, I may take it a bit far.

When I was being prepped for my first colonoscopy, the anesthesiologist told me it was Propofol that he was giving me. I immediately thought of Michael Jackson and asked, “How do you know how much to give me?”

“We go by your weight,” he said.

“Nobody weighed me today.”

“We get it from the forms you filled out,” he said.

Uh oh.