The Anatomy of a Lie

From Elizabeth Holmes to The Housewives, the truth lies somewhere in the edit.

The first time I ever told a lie, I was in the first grade. I had my whole life ahead of me and I was determined not to waste it on homework.

An aversion that still haunts me to this day. I will literally get on my knees and deep-clean my oven just to avoid an assignment. Then I’ll spend all night completing said assignment with obsessive conviction, both terrorized and invigorated by an impending deadline. So I obviously started a weekly newsletter. It’s better than a cocaine addiction.

Anyway, back to first-grade me.

I’d successfully convinced my parents that extracurricular activities would interfere with my social life, leaving my afternoons largely unregulated. I’m pretty sure Lizzie McGuire had just premiered, so I had to dedicate my after school time to Her Majesty. And after Lizzie, I could catch the Sister Sister reruns. As you can see, my schedule was quite packed.

I decided the smartest solution to my homework problem would be to rip out the middle two pages of my take-home packet and turn it in with the first and last pages done. Easy. Now I could get back to Lisa Landry refusing a snack because “a moment on the lips is a lifetime on the hips.” What Lisa failed to mention was that a moment of deception is a lifetime of correction.

I didn’t know you could go into cardiac arrest at age six. But there I was in class, watching in agony as my teacher graded our assignments. She stopped at one, looked puzzled, then moved on to the next. Okay... interesting. Was I maybe getting away with it? Absolutely not lol.

At the end of the school day, my teacher waved me over to her desk to ask why the middle pages of my packet were missing. I could’ve led with my heart. But I haggled with the truth, declaring it just came that way.

“Right, so then what is this?” She pointed disapprovingly to two jagged edges of ripped paper still stuck in the staple.

There is no greater humiliation than getting caught in a lie. Like you really thought you were slick, huh? I had no choice but to confess. My eyes welled up with tears and I broke down about how guilty I felt. How reckless I was!

Before my teacher could scold me, I’d already sentenced myself to five years probation. At which point I’d be on my way out of this place and she’d never have to see me again. Her vile, deceitful student! She felt so bad she let me redo the assignment and sent me off with a hug. And that’s when I replaced lying with self-punishing. Healthy...

But I decided lying just simply wasn’t worth the headache.

Unless, of course, you ask my ETA. Then it’s always going to be fifteen minutes, give or take three hours. And to my friends who have my location yet still feel compelled to ask... why are you doing this to me?

Then there was the time I got caught sneaking out in seventh grade. And ninth. And tenth. But isn’t that just keeping my parents young?

I also once shaved a few pounds off my intake forms before surgery. Then I realized that lying about information relevant to anesthesia was beyond idiotic. I woke up sobbing, thinking I was mid-procedure: “I’m so sorry I lied about my weight!” The doctor assured me the surgery was over, rendering my mortifying confession unnecessary.

And just yesterday, I told the Trader Joe’s cashier I liked her ugly earrings yolo.

But do those count? I don’t know.

Who cares if I lied to the Trader Joe’s cashier, right? It made her feel good. But how far can we stretch that line? I’ve spent the better part of my life convincing myself that I’m an honest person. But if the preceding confessions are any indication, perhaps I’ve simply gotten better at negotiating the conditions of my honesty.

If the stakes are low enough, I’m okay with getting caught. But I’m terrified of a real lie. One I have to nurture and grow until it’s fully planted as the truth. I can’t tell whether it’s the dishonesty itself or the responsibility of maintaining a false reality that scares me more. Does it matter?

For reasons varied and vague, we’re extremely forgiving of our own dishonesty, using HomeGoods platitudes like “Give yourself grace,” while serving as rigid prosecutors for everybody else. When someone lies to me, I’m offended that I even believed them. How could I be deceived? Have I always been this easily deceived? What does it mean to be deceived? Is deceived even a word? I’ve said it so many times now...

Sometimes, the difference between a lie and a reasonable explanation depends entirely on who’s presenting the evidence. Truthfully, we’re all unreliable as fuck. Even in a documentary that promises to be objective.

[CAUTION: This section contains spoilers. Feel free to skip ahead to the list]

In the nearly three-hour documentary, You Can See Everything, Nathan Fielder and Lance Oppenheim attempt to uncover the truth about disgraced Theranos founder Elizabeth Holmes. The film opens a Pandora’s box of batshit moments, including a character study of her partner Billy, who I would actively vote off any and every island despite his valuable physical fortitude. But much of the movie’s tension centers on one conveniently vague word: can.

Holmes stands ten toes down, defending her claim that Theranos’ technology can theoretically run every test it claimed to, just not in practice. It’s like saying I can become a pop star while never having recorded a single song. Everyone can dream.

More insane to me is Holmes’ unwavering commitment to the lie that she’s never lied. Girl. Come on. Part of me wonders if Holmes has gone so far down the rabbit hole that she’s both the captor and the victim in her own twisted StockHolmes syndrome™.

In true Fielder fashion, he approaches the documentary with comically litigious precision. But just when you think he might really be the most objective person in the room, he reveals a tender scene with Elizabeth that he deliberately withheld until the film’s final moments. Which makes you question what else he chose not to show us.

The film goes even further by bringing in Amanda Seyfried as a third point of view on Elizabeth. Seyfried previously delivered a career-high performance in The Dropout, relying largely on public interviews to understand who Elizabeth was. But what’s a performance of a performance?

There are always three versions of the truth: yours, mine, and whatever really happened. But who gets the final say on who you are: you or the people who perceive you? If it’s the latter, I’d like to strike 2015–2017 from my personal record, thank you.

I guess honesty and truth aren’t necessarily synonymous, which brings me to…

The Anatomy of a Lie:

1. The Bald-Faced Lie — No fucks given. You know it’s a lie. I know it’s a lie. Facts are just opinions with vibes. See: our current administration.

2. The Convenient Omission — Was it honorable that Tony Soprano invited us into his therapy sessions? Sure. Did he skillfully exclude the colorful details that would’ve led to a federal indictment? Absolutely. Thank God he was ashamed of therapy. Otherwise, we’d have to endure the three most harrowing words in the fuckboy lexicon: “My therapist says...”

3. The Loophole — Everyone remembers the infamous “We were on a break!!!!” line from Friends. Yes, Ross, technically you and Rachel were on a break. And I genuinely believe you were so devastated by your split that there was simply no other option but to hook up with the random Xerox girl three hours after parting from your soulmate.

4. The Dramatic License — Basically every major event in the Real Housewives franchise. The great negotiators of our time. These ladies are experts at delivering WILDLY different accounts of the same event. But replaying the footage can’t possibly capture every nuance, can it? Who’s to say what really drove Lisa Rinna to smash her wine glass, Teresa Giudice to flip a table, or Aviva Drescher to throw her prosthetic leg across a restaurant? There’s levels to it, baby.

5. The Noble Protection — Yes, you have gained ten pounds. No, I will not be confirming that out loud.

6. The Future Faker — You make plans you have absolutely no intention of keeping, but the future hasn’t happened yet, so let’s just hope you actually get sick the day you’re supposed to show up.

7. The Method Actor — Hilaria Baldwin. Enough said.

8. The Sudden Amnesia — It’s quite remarkable how many murder trials seem to hinge on the phrase “I cannot recall.” I’ve never killed anyone but I imagine it’d be pretty hard to forget.

9. The Strategic Confusion — Burying your explanation under 500 irrelevant details is a great way for someone to forget the original question. We all know where we were when Erika Jayne dropped the iconic “Tom’s house was broken into…” run-on sentence that could rival a Shakespearean monologue. Absolute banger.

10. The Reverse Uno — You get caught in a lie but somehow become so offended by the accusation that the other person ends up apologizing for asking in the first place. As they should. I’m a mental gymnast. And I’m going for gold.

I’d like to think you made it through this list without recognizing yourself. But you’re human and shit happens. Not all lies are created equal. Some are noble, some are convenient, and some are truly shady.

Maybe Elizabeth Holmes has become so lost in the labyrinth of her own deception that she genuinely can’t find her way out. Maybe the Housewives have simply mastered the art of being wrong with enough conviction to feel right.

And maybe I wasn’t really ashamed of lying in the first grade. Maybe I was just horrified by the literal paper trail.

[A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR]:

I once hit a pole at a gas station and felt so guilty about leaving a scratch (and scared of being arrested for a hit and run) that I returned hours later to confess my crime. The attendant looked at the rundown pole, then at the considerably larger dent in my car, and laughed.

“I think you have bigger things to worry about.”