Deniability

Denial is engrained in all of us. If the room smells like a barnyard and you ask a toddler if he messed his diaper he will vehemently shake his head. Of course not! It must be your imagination.

If you ask your teenager about bad grades at school, they will categorically deny it has anything to do with them. It’s their teacher’s fault, the assignment was stupid, they didn’t have enough time, or they had to beat the tenth level of a video game first and by that time you made them turn out the lights and go to bed. Therefore, in all legality, it’s actually your fault they got a bad grade.

Politicians also vehemently deny anything and everything. “I did not have sex with that woman!” or “Of course there are 50 states! I know that. I was speaking metaphorically, had we purchased Canada, Mexico, Alaska, and those islands where I grew up.” (okay, maybe he didn’t say those exact words, but he was probably thinking them while he said he “misspoke.”)

Speaking of denial, I have been denying the aging process for quite sometime. When I was in third grade and got my first pair of glasses, I didn’t gasp and think, “Oh no, this is a sign of aging!” If someone asked, “Can’t you see those street signs?” I didn’t explain how during twilight my eyes were still adjusting to the sudden change, or that the glare from headlights bounced off my retinas and caused a halogen rainbow effect on metal that had absolutely nothing to do with failing eyesight–I surely don’t need new glasses.

No, I was just amazed and thrilled to be able to see the building across the street was made of bricks and not just painted a rusty brown.

Now when I squint at the screen in front of me, I realize that reading glasses are in my near future, and like most people my age, I will put off getting them as long as humanly possible. That’s what extra large computer screens are for, right?

Providentially, the lack of close-up clarity means I don’t notice as many wrinkles in my face, which on one hand is quite freeing, but on the other hand could be a bad thing, as I also fail to see hairs growing out of my husband’s ears. After all, he relies on me for the important things.

Recently, I have taken a step back and fallen over a lawnmower. Not a metaphorical lawnmower, but a literal lawnmower. I fell over it and DID NOT break a hip. Therefore, I am NOT old. This is my basis for denial. That, and the fact that I don’t need to wear glasses.