No matter what the bible says and no matter what my mother insists (she lies, too), lying is not all bad. I was in the convenience store around midnight yesterday. I shuffled in, bleary-eyed, for a large Coke and a bag of stale Corn-Nuts. I was not interested in conversation and neither were the three other people milling around looking for a cigarette or sugar fix. I waved my items at the girl who jabbed rather violently at the cash register with an excessively manicured nail. Around a large wad of fruit smelling gum she asked, "Haw're ya?" I contemplated telling her how I really felt. I really felt cranky and my eyes were red and itchy. My feet were too hot and I wanted to go to bed, but I had too much studying left to do. And I hated the rank perfume she was wearing. But she wasn't interested and neither were the people in line behind me, so I did us all a favor and said, "Fine. Thanks."

I offer this courtesy to members of my own family, too. My grandmother has this thing with her hair. She loves going to the hairdresser once a week and invariably comes back with some new 'do straight out of a fashion magazine that looks like it has absolutely no business being on my grandmother's head. Call me old-fashioned, but I like to see my grandmother with grandmother hair: kind of dumpy in a nice shade of gray or white. Her hair should never be pink and it should never be violet. My grandmother's hair has been both of those. The pink was her favorite. She came to me, beaming, and wanted to know what I thought of it. For one second I felt like liberating myself from the enslavement of courtesy. I wanted so much to tell her she looked like she had collided with a cotton candy truck. How could I crush the feelings of the woman who fed me cookies behind my mother's back? I did what any decent person would do. I lied and said, "You look great as usual, Grandma."

I don't always lie to be nice. Sometimes I lie because I would rather lie than get into trouble. The thought of trouble today is more scary than the thought of Hell somewhere down the road. I have a chance to redeem myself before Judgment Day. My boss called me one Saturday morning. Where the hell are ya, he yells into the phone. I could hear him spit tobacco juice into the Folgers can he keeps on his desk. I wanted to tell him that I partied too late the night before and overslept. I wanted to tell him that I hate him and I hate my job, but I didn't. Instead, I coughed loudly into the phone and said in the shakiest voice possible, Oh. I'm sorry, sir. I . . I meant to (hack, cough) call you earlier, but I took some pain medication and it really knocked me out. I won't be coming in today, but I am feeling much better after last nights visit to the emergency room.

Once I went joy riding on a sunny Sunday without my driver's license. I let my hair down; I was feeling frisky and free. I was apparently driving quite frisky, too, and was pulled over by the policeman who had been following behind me. As a matter of routine he asked to see my license, which I did not have. I considered taking the honest approach. Always trust your local law enforcement officers. But I had this image in my mind of my car being impounded and having to get bail posted. I became very afraid. I dug around in the small suitcase that I call a purse. I dug for quite a while, leaving him standing there. I searched the glove compartment; I looked in the coin box and checked my pockets. I gave him my most pathetic, panicked college girl look and said, "Oh no! I think I left it back at home! I could have sworn it was in here!"

After a while, the lying becomes easier and you can get creative with it. Some days I get tired of my life or feel bored. On those days, I send my conscience home early and cut my mouth loose. According to my mouth, I have been an actress, a vegetarian, a truck driver, a shoplifter and the manager of a hardware store. Once, on a date, I told a delightfully elaborate story about a bank robbery I planned and executed at age thirteen while a member of a street gang. From what I hear, I have been scuba diving, spear fishing, and have hiked down an inactive volcano. I told the friend of a friend that I saved a box turtle from certain death by scooping it out of the path of an oncoming vehicle which nearly creamed me. There are people walking around America who think I am a pretty amazing person, but the truth is, I'm a liar.

Of course, I wouldn't lie if it was going to hurt someone. I lie because people lie to me. We expect it from each other; we count on it. None of us would know what to do if people started saying what they really thought and felt. This is the Truth even if nothing else I said was true. Which it was. I wouldn't lie about something like that.