On Monday at approximately 5:14 p.m., I told a deliberate and premeditated lie.
I don't normally lie. At all. Actually I'm a pretty terrible liar. There was this one time when I was like six and three quarters and I knew mom had a birthday present under the seat of the blue mini-van, and so I went outside and I peeked. It was the box set of Little House on the Prairie. I felt this tiny thrill course through my body and I went back inside and mom was like, where were you, and I was like, there was....a really big star.
And that's pretty much how bad I've always been at lying. Until Monday.
I was walking out of the Columbia campus after a solid eight hours of orientation. It was good and all, but after like eight hours of hearing that the journey I am about to embark upon will be the most gut wrenching and difficult thing in like the history of the world, I was ready for some Chinese food and Judge Judy reruns. So, not so much feeling like talking to people.
There's this hair salon a few blocks south of the campus, and sometimes they send out little perky, highlighted minions to drum up business. So I wasn't too surprised when the perky redhead bounded up to me and asked if she could ask me a question.
I said yes. Why do I always say yes? I could say no, I guess. It's just that being nice is way more socially acceptable. It's probably Donna Reed's fault. So she was like, how much do you pay for a haircut, and then something miraculous happened.
I lied.
It was like some switch went off in my brain and my brain was like, hey Andrea, she's just trying to get your hard earned money which is actually Paul's hard earned money but still it's the principle of the thing, and then my brain was like just tell her some price that's so low she won't be able to beat it, and so I told her....
Fifteen dollars.
She looked at me, surprised. Wow, she said. It looks....really cute. I grinned at her. Thanks, I said. Then she was like, can I ask you just one more question?
Sure, I said. I mean, I was ready for anything.
How do you feel about facials, manicures, and pedicures? She looked at me all triumphant, like she'd just offered a junkie some crack.
I looked earnestly, directly, into her eyes.
I don't really like touching, I said.
And she sprang back with a look of supreme pity and bounded away.
And I stood there, enjoying a lightness of soul only experienced by those expert in rejecting solicitation.
It was a new world. A beautiful, new world.
