Tell me lies, tell me sweet, little lies.

We are creatures of lies. 

For whatever reason, more times than not, admitting the truth is far harder than concocting a lie and taking all necessary steps to keep it up. I’ve known my fair share of liars. I’ve lied a great deal, myself. To be honest, at any given time, resume/LinkedIn profile is approximately 38% lies. I can tell you the last time I told a decently significant lie, felt guilty about it, and confessed almost right away, but I can’t recall the amount of times (if any) I lie on a daily basis about things that are completely unimportant.

“Yeah, I just bought a box of Emergen-C packets to help me get over this cold.” [No, I am going to buy a box of Emergen-C packets but I haven’t yet] 

“I really like that sweater.” [That is the ugliest effing sweater I have ever seen]

Liking a photo on Facebook or Instagram of something you could care less about but know you’re ‘supposed’ to like because of the people who will be offended if you don’t… yeah, to me, that’s considered lying too.

And I do it alllllllllllllllll the time.

Don’t tell me you didn’t like that photo of my lips + cleavage + necklace out of obligation, because I know you did. 

It’s the people who lie maliciously that I really have the problem with. It’s the people who can’t even distinguish to themselves the difference between the truth and something they’ve completely fabricated that really piss me off. It’s the people who say the most absurd things to people to save their own ass or to bring others down that I really just don’t understand.

Like the girl who told my boss, when I was a Summer Camp Counselor, that I was behaving inappropriately with some of the children at camp. Or the girl who sat at a table next to me and told my friends a completely made-up story about how I did all these heroic and friend-worthy things for her when she was in between apartments and didn’t get along with her roommates. Sure, it was a nice lie and it made me look like kind of a kick-ass friend but it wasn’t true. And she knew I knew that.

And I said nothing. Until now. So I suppose in that instance, I lied about that too.

Just like I lie to myself every Sunday night when I say I will stop eating McDonalds to try to get in shape for California.

I guess it’s easier to lie when the truth is only mediocre at best. But the truth is, I shouldn’t be complaining about the things I can’t change and instead focusing on the things I’d never want to in a million years. My life right now, for example.

I was excited to start 2012. I know it’s sometimes hard for people to just be happy for others who seemingly have it together [and trust me, I’m a far, far cry from having it together] so I won’t dwell too much on the good, but less than a full month in, 2012 has far exceeded my expectations for the year, and I haven’t even gone to California yet.

I got to celebrate my birthday with my mom, my babe of a boyfriend, and a medium-sized group of truly fantastic girls. There was absolutely no drama. No one took my birthday excitement [or lack thereof] away from me. I didn’t have to pretend not to want to punch people in the face this year. And on Monday morning, after consuming an entire bottle of birthday wine post-dinner celebration, I have never wanted to take off my boot and throw up in it so much in my life.

In the best possible way.

My second January weekend was spent with one of my best friends from both university and life, celebrating her 25th birthday, catching up on the last year of our lives, and remembering what it was like to have girl friends who didn’t write blog posts behind each other’s backs.

Last weekend was my 12^th consecutive year as a volunteer face painter and Swan dresser-upper for Stratford Winterfest – a 3 day, outdoor family festival in the S. Dot.  I normally dislike going back to Stratford due to having approximately 0 friends remaining there, but every 3^rd weekend in January makes an exception to that rule. It was a hectic and extremely stressful weekend but it was, as expected, very rewarding and fun. Even the whole being around children thing.

Oddly, Winterfest is an exception to my “I hate children” rule as well. As it happens, the parents of these kids are generally far worse than the kids themselves. Your child does not want their face painted if they are screaming bloody murder on the chair in front of me or if you need to hold all 4 of their appendages down so they “sit still for mommy.”

Some people shouldn’t have children. 

I’ve spent the last week in and out of being sick, going tanning, trying desperately to think of any little thing I could possibly forget to pack, illegally downloading music, and counting down the days - now hours - until my flight to California, WHICH, BY THE WAY, IS IN 33 HOURS!

I’ve packed colours, I’ve upgraded my iPhone to include a US data package [helloooooo Instagram & Twitter], and I’ve probably annoyed the hell out of everyone I know talking about how incredibly excited I am to be going to a place that will be 24 degrees and sunny when I get there. To be honest, it still hasn’t set in that I’ll be traveling alone but I can’t help but be a little proud that I finally did something spontaneous and un-me.

And it’s never felt better, not a word of a lie.