Fun Monday- Little White Lies. And some big ones too.

The host of this week's Fun Monday is Uncaringbear and she asks this of us:

Share with us a little white lie that you may, or may not, have gotten away with. Perhaps it's something more sinister than a little white lie - maybe even a deep dark secret that you've kept buried for years! All the better! Now's your chance to get it off your chest and confess: "Yes, I did eat that last slice of cheese cake", "No, I wasn't washing my hair that Saturday", "Those pants do make you look fat"!

So what to confess? I already told you that I quite often lie about how I met William, saying that we met in N. Ireland instead over this here contraption, with him in Australia and me in Canada. It still makes me shudder to say that, even though I know that really there is no shame in it.

As a teenager I was the queen of lying to my parents. I'd say I was spending the night at a friend's, when in reality I was at my boyfriend's, referred to on this blog as the German Bastard. Affectionately of course. I lied consistently from the age of 15-17 about whether or not I was having sex. Did my mother believe me? Probably not, she's certainly not as stupid as I assumed she was. I would have kept lying about that one too, but for the fact that I got pregnant at 17. I would have been one of those girls that hid my pregnancy for 9 months and then said "I don't know how I ended up with that baby!" I miscarried though and had no choice but to tell my mother as I had to go to the hospital for a D&C. I will never forget how disappointed she was in me. My dad still doesn't know why I went into the hospital. So not only did I lie about having sex and getting pregnant, I forced my mother to lie to my father.

These days I stick mostly to white lies, the basic "I am quite sure I emailed those school council minutes out to everyone" even though in reality I haven't even typed them up or "No, your ass doesn't look flat at all in those pants" even though it looks flat in every pair of pants this person owns. I also skew the number lower on the amount of people I've slept with. Not many people ask that question these days. Maybe because I'm in my 30s now? I don't know, it seems like as a teenager and in the early 20s it is a question that comes up often. William is the only person who knows the exact number.

And then there is the one giant lie that I have kept a secret for many, many years (although I did tell William in the spirit of no secrets and all that) that will hopefully remain a secret for many more years.

As I read other Fun Monday entries, I am quite regretting my choice of lies to tell. Am I the only awful blogger out there?