such a lonely word.

I am a big fan of honesty. No, not the Billy Joel song, thought it's not bad. I mean the concept of not being a big liar. I know some big liars, and their lack of honesty is my least favorite thing about them. And I know some very honest people, and their honesty is one of my favorite things about them. My philosophy is to give me the truth, because I can handle it. And if it turns out that I can't, well, then it's my own fault for asking for it.

Casey is a very honest person. When he tells me something, I believe him unconditionally. If I want to know something, I ask him, he tells me, I trust him, and that's that. I love that I can do that with him.

All this leads up to going shopping with my beloved the other day. I found a pair of pants, lovely blue ones on sale for ten bucks. I went into the dressing room to try them on, and I found them to be questionable. They didn't fit so well or so badly that I immediately knew whether or not to buy them. So I poked my head outside to ask Casey's opinion on them. He said, "They're not very flattering."

Did I say I was a fan of honesty? I didn't mean it.

It's true, I asked for his opinion, and I would have wanted him to give me his true opinion. And if someone had asked me what I didn't like about the pants, I would have said, "Well, they're maybe not as flattering as I would like." I would have used the exact word that he used. So why is this any different? Why did my eyes widen in an expression of extreme injury when he gave his verdict on the pants?

I dunno, it's just different. In the world of relationships, there is an understanding that all pants are flattering, girlfriends are not fat, and size does not matter. And it wasn't that I disagreed with his assessment of the pants and the way they looked on me, I was just shocked to hear him say it. Apparently, love isn't so blind after all. Not only can it see, love thinks I look fat in those pants.

It's okay, really. I'm ready to joke about it, which he will say means that I'm not over it at all (That's not an unfair assumption; jokes mean many different things in my world). I asked for the truth, and it turns out I can handle it. Maybe next time I should ask for tact, too.

Needless to say, I did not get the pants. I never would have been able to put them on without thinking about how unflattering they were. And maybe next time, I'll just go shopping with my big fat liar friends.