I was raised to tell the truth, yet sometimes I can't help but to say the thing that other people want to hear: No, I don't mind waiting. Yes, you're right, I should take tango lessons.
The lie is out of my mouth before I can stop it, though, in that moment, it doesn't feel like a lie because it's what I imagine a better version of me would say.
Yet, last summer, when my honest response to an airline steward's request was met with a scowl of disapproval, I couldn't stop feeling guilty. Crazy. Right?
The incident niggled at me long after the flight. I questioned my motives, my humanity, my truth, and eventually I wrote about the experience in the article When Did I Become the Ugly American?
What would you have done? Do you find it easy, or difficult, to speak your truth? I'd love to hear your thoughts.