We all have that one big lie we told our parents that we dont ever want to talk about throughout our lifetime. But little did we know, some people have bigger lies than ours and below are just a few of the revelations weve gathered from the AskReddit community.
Comments have been edited for clarity. The source can be found the end of the article.
When I was in 7th grade or so, I think the parents of my class collectively agreed on drinking being okay at parties as long as parents were present.
When I got to our version of high school, it was the teachers selling drinks at the bar of the school parties.
Incidentally, my country has the highest youth consumption of spirits. I’m sure it’s not related.
I told my parents I befriended a tattoo artist who gave me a free tattoo in his studio when I was travelling. In reality I got it done in an attic during a beer pong tournament when I was inebriated and a bit high. Also when I was being tattooed, I asked if he had done his tattoos himself, he just laughed and said no, I got someone good to do them.
My parents are divorced and hate each other to the point where they don’t talk to each other at all if they can help it.
When I was sixteen, on three separate occasions I told my mom I had to visit extended family with my dad, and I told my dad I had to visit extended family with my mom.
I took the money I saved from my job as a waitress and went to a beach in Mexico for a few days and drank pia coladas in the sand and read and pretended I wasn’t a miserable teenager.
Never got caught, will never tell my parents ever. The fact that I got away with it makes me terrified to be a parent someday.
I wanted to get out of an exam when I was around 12, so I pretended I had really bad stomach pains. I rushed to hospital and they thought my appendix was bad.
It wasn’t. There was nothing wrong with me.
It dawned in me that I’d be doomed when I had the rectal exam…a week of suppositories wasn’t fun either.
You live and learn, but I’ve never told me parents the truth.
They once asked if I’ve ever tried smoking (cigarettes). I said I did once but didn’t like it. Truth is I’ve smoked on and off for over 10 years. I’ve quit now, and don’t want to hurt them by telling the truth.
I secretly got married to a dude in the army at 19 and moved to Hawaii with him. My parents begged me not to go and said they had a bad feeling about him. Turned out they were right and he turned emotionally and physically abusive as soon as I was away from everyone I knew. My parents still have no idea that I was a divorcee by the age of 20, nor will they ever!
By the time I was in my teen years, my dad and stepmom were deep into regular illicit substance binges, not paying their mortgage or most of their bills. So I pretty much had no respect for either of them. Also, I often was left at home for a couple weeks at a time all alone to fend for myself, and not left with money for food, or food in the fridge in general.
I stole $50 from my dad who left his wallet out one of the few times he actually came home briefly. I spent it on a South Park t-shirt when the show was hot in its first season. He accused me of taking the money from him, which I of course denied – he immediately pressed me on the South Park shirt that he knew I did not recently have. But he had no proof I took it, and I imagine he probably just thought at some point he might have spent it on substances and just forgot because he stopped bringing it up about a couple hours later.
They also never knew that I stole some illegal substances from them that I would find in their dresser drawers and flush them down the toilet.
That she’s going to be a grandma someday.
Nope. My sister has cancer and can’t conceive, my brother hates kids, my other brother is an addict and lives on the streets so if he has kids we don’t know about them.
Me? I don’t want kids of my own. I love kids, don’t get me wrong, but I’m not mentally or emotionally mature enough to care for them.
I absolutely hated mash potatoes as a child. I still do. It’s horrible potato foam. My mother used to make it several times a week. I’d make my feelings known but would begrudgingly work my way through it.
One day, I had been given a giant slice of chocolate cake at school. I had put it in my bag and gobbled it all up in my bedroom as quickly as I could so no-one would know. I wasn’t waiting until after dinner.
The moment I was finished, I was called downstairs to dinner. Joy of joys: mash potato and, as a special bonus, liver.
I was tentatively picking at the mash potato when the cake decided to try and make itself known. I was sick in my mouth, swallowed it, and rushed to the bathroom. What I produced was 99.95% chocolate cake but I quickly flushed and left the bathroom looking sullen.
I told my mother I was allergic to mash potatoes. No, she wasn’t stupid, she knows that someone can’t furiously eat fries but be allergic to mash potato, but she seemed convinced that I hated it enough that it had literally turned my stomach. I never ate mashed potatoes again.
I’m 31 now and had to stay at my family’s house recently as they live closer to the airport than I do. I overheard a conversation about dinner plans and mashed potatoes were promptly ruled out because it “makes him ill.” Score.
I lied to my parents about taking loans out and financial aid paying for my college tuition. I was escorting almost everyday and paid off my entire tuition with the money I made.
Back when I was depressed, I would smoke Mary Jane when I wasn’t intoxicated. Neither of my parents are very accepting about that, and my mom will fly into a rage if me or my brother (who’s also done it) even try to defend it.
Funnily enough, none of them cared overly much about my constant drinking.
I got to not do chores/work a lot of times by telling my dad I was supposed to go out with this girl, he was really stoked… aaand half the town thought we were dating because we hung out so much.
One night, when she was on a real date with another dude, I happened to stop by the same bar they were at. The staff said I should beat him up for taking my girlfriend on a date.
Guys, chill, were only friends……. yeah… only friends…
In fourth grade, I lived in a small town, about a block away from my elementary school. I could walk to school by myself, and I was the last person to leave the house every morning to go to school/work. I was a pretty trustworthy kid so my parents and older siblings didn’t question that I’d take care of myself and get to school on time.
One morning I happened to fall back asleep on the sofa in our living room and missed school all morning. By the time I woke up I just decided to roll with it, and I told my parents that I’d been sick so I just decided not to go. They believed me.
It turned out that our school district was in the middle of a big “stranger-danger” awareness push, and had been communicating their recommendations out to all parents, and teaching the kids about our part in avoiding the danger, or reporting it if we ever saw anything amiss.
But when I skipped school that day, of course my parents had never told my teacher that I’d be gone, and nobody at the school decided to search me out. My parents were never called about my absence at either of their jobs. Nobody came to my house to find out if I was there (and just a block away, it would have been easy).
My parents pitched a huge fit over that, and our principal ended up agreeing to an early retirement severance package rather than be fired outright or face criminal negligence charges.
All because I overslept and lied about it.
When I was in 3rd grade (probably 7 years old) we took the Iowa tests,which are pretty close to that intense testing that kids get all the time now. I always struggled with math. My desk was in the back corner, kitty-corner from the teacher’s.
I had smuggled in a small calculator. Tests gave me anxiety, and I cheated. I even faked notes, and figured out that .33333 was the same as R3 (remainder of 3, for 3rd graders), and finally figured out what they were talking about with thermometers for the first time (I remember that really clearly. Thinking that if I was getting all these other questions right, I had to ace the thermometer).
I ended up getting the highest math score in the nation for the Iowa test. That was the only ammunition that my parents needed to insist that the teachers were inept, and I was a math genius.
After that, everything changed. I wasn’t given the normal rote homework. They realized that I really liked extra-credit work, which was more like a puzzle or game and really fun. They adapted all the lessons in that way for me, and just as everyone knew at that point, I performed like a math genius. I went on to do fairly well in math, learned calculus, did fine in college with it.
It pains me that my mom brings it up SO MUCH. She’s fairly conservative, and for her it’s proof of how crappy my teachers were, K-3. It’s her big moment of how she stood up for me. For me, it’s a big moment of how more was expected of me and when I was given a fun way to learn it, I rose to the occasion.
I always think “I’ll tell her next time”, but I never have it in me.
A few years ago, my parents bought a new house. They had it furnished but they hadn’t moved in yet. I decided to take a girl there late one night and we made love on their bed.
A few weeks later, they were finally moving in and I was helping them with their bedroom. My older brother and baby nephew were there too.
My parents noticed the erm, white stain on their brand new mattress and began losing their minds because they couldn’t figure out what it was. I told them it was juice from my nephew’s sippy cup.
When I was in high school, my mom really wanted me to go to a Christian college. I wasn’t keen on the idea but when she told me she would buy me an airline ticket to Virginia to check out Liberty University by myself!) I flew out there for a visit.
I only made it one day before I escaped campus, stole a bike and spent the whole day playing arcade games and watching R-rated movies. When I came back, I told my mom it was a good school (it wasn’t, it was horrible) and that I was still considering. I never told her I was kicked out and personally told by the University Founder Reverend Jerry Falwell that I was never allowed on any campus of Liberty University ever again!
My parents asked me some years ago if I had a substance abuse issue (a friend had told them I was acting odd).
I told them I had been working long shifts and it was killing my thinking power.
The truth was, I had torn a muscle in my back and ended up addicted to oxycontin. The doctor was an enabler because I had some insurance that didn’t ask questions and would fill a script for whatever the doctor prescribed.
Right around that time, I met one of my current roommates. She was actually a nurse at the hospital I was going to for my ‘fix’.
She managed to convince me to get help. I’ve been clean and sober for 2 years now, but still haven’t told my mom and dad.
My top two lies would be saying that I was never abused (a counselor when I was a kid told them there were red flags that I had been abused and I lied about all of it) and as an adult as to why I left my job and moved because of being abused again.
Third, I had my shoulder X-rayed. I said I fell but really a friend was driving my car and nearly totaled it. We took it to some guy’s house that used to have an auto body shop and he fixed it for super cheap. That was sketchy as hell. So there was no paper trail. I dont know that they havent figured it out. But I certainly havent told them.
I was playing around with a double-A battery back when I was in third grade. I was curious about the inside of the battery but had no way of getting inside. So I started repeatedly throwing the battery against the ground.
I guess I got some of the acid on my fingers because by the time I got to school, my hands were burning. I got sent to the school nurse in which she asked me how and why my hands were burning.
Me not wanting to get in trouble, came up with a story on which a high schooler poured battery acid on my hands on the way to the bus stop. I came up with a fake story, fake description on what the guy looked like. The school nurse ended up calling my mom and reporting on this. So after school, I had to go down to the police station and fill out a fake report. I really was just too embarrassed or nervous about the whole thing and I had to lie to everyone in my family.