I used to lie a lot when I was a kid. My lies weren't super evil or anything, it was like I thought that if I said certain things out loud they might come true.
For example, I went to a camp that had sailing. The teacher asked if anyone could sail. I said, "I can!" even though I had no clue how to sail. Fast forward to 15 minutes later, when I had miraculously sailed a boat to the middle of the lake, and I literally jumped ship, leaving four little girls to fend for themselves, the boat tipping over moments after I abandoned ship, dumping my crew into the lake.
I did the same thing to myself with hockey. One of the things that Canadians are all supposed to be able to do is ice skate. I have completely flat feet, and after a week of classes when I was five-years-old, the skating coach pulled my mom aside to tell her that skating was physiologically impossible for her ankle burning daughter. So yeah, I can't skate, which might explain why I was asked to leave Canada and move here, but the point is that I can't skate. In grade 10, or 10th grade as Americans call it, I decided that I could indeed skate, and that I would try out for my high school's women's varsity hockey team. My friends mother, Mrs. Slack took us to the rink at 5 a.m. and I can still remember the sound of her laugh when I first stepped on ice and fell flat on my lumbar.
What I've learned: don't lie about things that can't be faked. Orgasms? Sure. Swimming? Not a great idea.
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