With Full Disclosure

In the spirit of my new mantra, I have been reading The Art of Memoir in ten minute increments. I know that hardly seems long enough to get into the meat of any book, but, it's better than no minutes at all. And I am already on chapter 5.

Anyway, I have learned in my ten minutes of reading, (one is certainly allowed to continue on longer), the importance of truth in writing, which of course is the point of a memoir, otherwise I would be writing fiction. In looking back I may have danced a bit around some of my more embarrassing moments of youth and contemplated way too much. So, I will go back and rewrite where I tapped danced, with more courage and perhaps more abandon. Even if it takes me a hundred attempts to lay myself bare.

So, as a practice step in the art of full disclosure I shall use myself as an example in truth telling. And it will take less than ten minutes.

Yesterday, in addition to breakfast and lunch I ate a glazed donut (and it wasn't even donut day), in the car, with bits of the sugary, fat laden glaze stuck to my lips and fingers and sucked them off, shamefully happy. Then for dinner I ate an entire large bag of Peanut M & M's and told my husband, who came home late from a meeting, that I had dinner. The omission of what type of dinner is still an untruth. Liar, liar, pants on fire.