I Am A Liar

I am a liar. I was trained, instructed and taught to be one, since the age of four. I have a vague memory of being coached to say I was five, so I could start kindergarten a year early, seeing as I already knew how to read. I made it in, but was pulled out quickly due to extreme shyness. Or maybe we’d been busted in our lie. Or both. I can’t remember.

It was around that time that I did my first modeling job. Maybe that’s the one where I was supposed to say I was five. It’s hard to keep it all straight, seeing as I don’t talk to my mom and my dad was gone a lot, back then. I do remember being on set and crying because I hated the outfit I was made to wear. My mother pulled me aside and squeezed my hand hard, in that secret, scary way that she always did when I was in trouble. Then, in her most serious tone, she said to me, “Be professional, you’re getting paid for this.” I never did see that money. But I did begin drawing subconscious parallels between lying, putting my needs and wants …