Honesty is not a problem for me unless I am expected to be honest with myself. Ask me how you look and I'll tell you--right down to the details about how there's a thread hanging from your butt or your bra strap is showing or that pimple on your face is distracting. So I can be honest with you but I cannot be honest with myself about what I eat and how much I weigh--even in private.
If I'm keeping a diet journal, I lie. I write down what I should be eating instead of what I am eating. Even if I know that no one else will be reading the journal. The fiction of my intake is only for my eyes but I still cannot be honest.
Measuring my waist with a tape measure usually means holding the tape so tightly that I stretch it a bit. That's the way I make sure I've arrived at a measurement that appeals to me.
I am honest if I share the info. I'm only dishonest if I am keeping it to myself.
And it's not like I'm psychotic. I know I'm lying to myself. I don't care. I do it anyway.
If I showed you my diet journal (which, by the way, doesn't exist!), I would probably cross out the bogus entries and correct them for your viewing.
In my little Sharon world, I have to be perfect. As perfect as I can be even if it is a fantasy perfection. I know YOU know I'm not perfect. You've got eyes. You can see for yourself. You don't need me to corroborate what you see. But I see what I want to see and I want to see a perfect Sharon and that's what I do see.
Imagine my shock when I see a photo of myself or somebody points out my imperfections!
If I don't adopt "truth in dieting" pretty soon, I'm going to fail at this attempt to reduce my fatness.