Hey, little liar, I believed me

My Sentiments Exactly

In the mid-to-late 1980s, Joan Jett was all the rage.

All angry and dark and shiny in her black leather gear and matching punk hair and sable, almost goth makeup, she was the epitome of bad girl cool.

She well known for such hits as “I Love Rock & Roll,” “I Hate Myself for Loving You” and “Bad Reputation.” Another of her biggies was “Little Liar.”

The song is pretty much: “Hey, little liar I believed in you.” Joan croons that 14 times during the course of the tune. “I believed in you,” she belts out 15 times and “Hey, little liar,” she utters a whopping 17 times.

Listen, I said she was cool, I didn’t say she was Keats.

Either way, it got me to thinking about the little white lies we tell ourselves daily.

Oh, you don’t do that? #LieNumber1

We all do it. It’s a defense mechanism when admitting a truth is tough, such as, acknowledging that we don’t weigh what our driver’s license purports … or what we did in our 30s … or last year.

You get the general idea. We shield ourselves from … well, ourselves.

As I’m prone to do, I quickly polled my closest peeps. I asked them to share their top self-untruths. Here’s some of what I got:

“I had salad for lunch so that cancels out the ice cream I’m getting later.”

Variations include “I can have an extra piece of pie, I ran two miles today” and “Sugarfree cookies don’t count.” Sadly, that’s just not the way fat burning works.

“I’m fine. I don’t need to see a doctor.”

The person uttering this is not only sicker than a dog after eating an entire box of chocolates but is also likely spewing around nightmarish contagions. Stay away from him unless you’re wearing a mask. And gloves. And have Purell in one hand and Lysol in the other.

“I can totally get by on three hours of sleep.”

Insomniacs everywhere know this fib only too well. We tell it right before mini-hibernating in the strangest places, such as in the bleachers at a basketball game, in the passenger seat of the car on the way to dinner or on the floor during the Super Bowl … ahem. I mean, that’s what I heard, anyway.

“It’s okay if I go to the store like this (in sweats, sans makeup, generally disheveled), I’m just running in and out; I won’t see anyone I know.”

In the history of people, marketplaces and clothing this has never occurred. Not once. Even cave dwellers rushing to the stream for a quick look at the fishing situation would get caught. “Oh, hey, Meb, if I knew you were going to be here, I’d have combed this bearskin a little more evenly, hee!”

“I know what I’m doing.”

Can also be verbalized as “I got this,” and sometimes even “No worries!” Also popular is my go to lie of “Super fine!” whenever asked how I’m doing. I think it’s the whole positive affirmation we’re going after here. If we say it enough times, it could happen, right?

“I don’t care.”

Bam, you do. A lot.

So, in the interest of facing yourself in the mirror and in the spirit of the season of introspection we call Lent, let’s try to opt for a little truth every now and again. Or at least for the next 40 days, capisce?

Kimerer is a Tribune Chronicle columnist who’s giving up cussing, soda and watching Bravo for Lent. “It’s going well,” or so she says at www.patriciakimerer.com