Lies My Mother Told Me: Part I

My mother was an elementary school counselor and very tuned in to feelings and emotions. And it was very important to her that I grow up to be a strong, confident woman.

So sometimes, when I probably just needed the truth, she would lie…

“Yes – I think you’re a great dancer.”

“No – your calves are definitely not big.”

“Honey – I don’t think your butt crack is abnormally high! Where would you even get that idea?”

At some point or another I would eventually learn the truth. But usually not until much later than I should have.

It wasn’t until college that my friend Brooke clued me in that I absolutely could not dance – even when drunk. (Thank you, Brooke!) In fact, I think she said something like, “I was always too self concsious to dance at parties, but when I saw you dancing, I knew I could just go for it too.”

It wasn’t until we had a “Who has the Biggest Calves” competition at a family reunion (we’re Greek) that I realized just how HUGE they really were (I came in third place).

And it wasn’t until I was nearly married that I discovered that I really do have an abnormally high butt crack – hanging out of every skirt, bathing suit, pair of pants that I have ever worn. Seriously – it
starts at my shoulders. (And you can read all about it right here.)

But this isn’t about my high butt crack.

Or my calves or my lack of dancing ability.

This lie was so major – that I believed it until I was in college and should have known better.

When I was in 5th grade, I assumed that I was a great singer. No one had ever told me otherwise, so I must be pretty great, right?

There was an open talent show for all 5th graders. No tryouts or anything. Just sign up and you’re in. So I (of course!) decided to sing a solo – “I Believe the Children are our Future” by Whitney Houston.

I signed up. I practiced. I was ready.

A few days before the talent show I did a full rehearsal for my mom. I used a wooden spoon for a microphone, and I belted out my song. And then I waited for my mom to sing my praises.

And she did.

She said I had a beautiful voice. She said I sounded just like Whitney Houston – only better.

And then she said,

“Oh no. I totally forgot. You can’t do the talent show. There’s a very rare gene that runs in our family. I have it, your grandma has it, your great-grandma has it.

There’s something in our voices that doesn’t work with microphone technology. In fact, when we sing into a microphone, this rare gene reacts with the microphone and makes our voices sound awful.

We’re hoping that microphone technology will improve enough to work with voices like ours soon – but for now, we can never, ever sing in public.

In the meantime, we’ll have to just sing privately at home and try to stay up-to-date on the latest microphone research.”

And I totally believed her.

I told all of my friends about my rare voice gene. I never sang in public again. And it wasn’t until I told Even Steven about my rare gene during a heart-to-heart talk that he helped me realize that my mother had lied to me!

Even Steven

Turns out that I am actually a terrible singer.

It’s even worse than my dancing. Most likely – I am 100% tone deaf.

Want to hear why I can’t dance? Yeah – my mom has something to do with that too.

36 comments on “Lies My Mother Told Me: Part I

  1. Oh – I laughed to hard! I just changed my son's ribbon from 19th place to 4th place – with my pen and he didn't notice! He had come in 4th place, in his individual swim heat – just not overall. I hope they are not keeping track of my little fibs over time!

  2. Giggle. That made me laugh so dang hard :) Your mother is definately winning the Good Mom award!

  3. Thanks GOd you dont suffer frm anything gladnular in addition ot that rare voice gene!
    Love it!

  4. Oh my! That lie was a doozy! Your sense of humor about everything is great! I am your newest follower!

  5. LOL…….this is hilarious! I always wondered how kids of counselors and psychiatrists managed & now I know!!

  6. What an awesome lie. And you believed it… This is like the whopper my mother told me. She said that the sign that said “blind driveway” was to alert the rest of us to blind drivers. And I am afraid to tell you at what age I realized that was a big fat lie. To this day, I can still see a blind driver in a swanky Oldsmobile with plush interior backing out of his driveway. And my question to this day is this “does a blind driver have to put his arm across the back of the passenger seat to look behind him when he backs up, or does he just use the rearview mirror?”

  7. *shakes hands* Nice to meet you. Came here because of your map tute over on Remodelaholic, stayed because I laughed over and over. I have now subscribed to your blog, making it unique in my subscription line up—the only blog I follow that isn’t home improvement-related or written by a close friend I actually know in real life. Because the second you started throwing up in the coffee shop, I wished fervently that I could know you in real life, and that we could swap stories and maybe babysitting and that I could know what you’re doing every day. So here I am on the other side of your computer screen, smiling and laughing and nodding, making a new friend.

  8. People in my family are starting to know when I’m reading your blog. It’s usually when they hear lots of snorting coming from the computer nook. HA! I feel like I may be your mother. It sounds like something I might have told my kids once upon a time!

  9. I have an abnormally high butt crack too!

    Also, when I was very very young my dad told me that if you rip the tag off a stuffed animal it will come to life and attack you.

    I have still never ripped a tag off anything with a face in my life.

    • OMG! That stuffed animal lie is awesome! Sorry tho if it caused therapy ;) I am still laughing and wondering whether to torture my kids with it….

  10. I am crying I am laughing so hard!! I tried to read this to my husband and he was laughing at me because I had tears coming down my face! We needed this! Thank you. :)

  11. okay, so yeah. BUTT CRACK TWINS UNITE. I made everyone at work measure their buttcracks before I quit my job a few years ago. I swear, mine is like 57inches long. So maybe we’re not twins, because you said yours is HIGH. mine is just LONG. :D and I THINK I LOVE YOU.

  12. A friend directed me here for your 4 child post, as I am due with baby #4. I laughed, and got to reading some more and more and I just can’t stop! You are too funny, and tend to hit the nail right on the head :) Keep up the good work!

  13. I am a fellow high butt crack person as well! All of my life, my crack has shown known matter what I wear, despite family and friends desparately trying to find clothes that help me cover my butt (to no avail). I’ve learned to deal with it, people accept me for who I am, but sometimes I wonder if it hinders my professional growth. I’ve worked at the same company for a while and haven’t been promoted in 3 years. I honestly think the butt crack could be a major reason behind it – maybe they don’t feel I’m presentable to clients :( I really wish there was some way to change it, but just like you, I swear it goes halfway up my back, plus I have a really long torso, so no pants, shirt, belt, or boxers can keep my butt crack from popping out.

    Ok, huge tangent here, just glad to hear I’m not alone! :)

  14. You are hilarious….and I absolutely love our Mother. I can’t wait to make these kinds of white lies up for my children….

  15. I love your blog! Always giving me a laugh when I so need one!

  16. You never fail to disappoint with the humor. I come here to read one blog and then I’m sucked in for hours following your links to read about your other shenanigans. This takes the cake though. The hilarious lie your mom sold you was more than likely 10 times nicer than what other people might have told you after you sang in the talent show though!

  17. Omg I used to chew on my hair as a kid and my mom told it would it turn into worms and I believed her for the longest time! lol

  18. My sister must have had that gene too! My mom told my brother and me that we were not allowed to laugh at her when she sang. When she was 14 she finally came to and said, ” I can’t sing, can I?” “No, honey.” “I’m tone deaf, aren’t I?” “Yep…that’s why it was your job to sing like scuttle the seagull when we sang songs from the little mermaid.”

  19. This is HILARIOUS! I especially loved it for 2 reason: 1.) My older sister actually sang that song in our elementary school talent show and 2.) my dad told me a lie that I believed until my freshman year in college, and it was ridiculous…but helped me sleep a lot better at night. I don’t mean to be spammy, but I couldn’t believe the title of your post because I wrote about the exact same thing this week. I’d love it if you stopped by and read it–and if not, it was fun reading yours!