The phony. We all know one or two . . . or ten.
They are like Barbie dolls. I think they belong to a club where they learn to talk the same, look the same, act the same. They are also required to find a perfect smile in a magazine, cut it out and paste it where their mouth should be. Now it’s been there so long that no one even remembers what their old smile looked like.
The phony sweeps into the room and expects every eye to turn in their direction. They strike the I’m-here-so-let-the-party-begin pose before they greet you with an air kiss and tell you how wonderful it is to see you. But you know very well they’re already scanning the premises over your shoulder to see who else is there. They ask you how you are and you’re tempted to answer with something completely outlandish because you know they’re not really listening to your reply anyway. Their thoughts have already left the building. And you see them discreetly watching the clock so they can escape your presence the moment it is socially acceptable.
I don’t want to be phony in any of my relationships. I want to be real – the same person, no matter who I come in contact with. I don’t want to be the Barbie doll with the fake smile and expressionless eyes, pretending to be something I’m not.
The bottom line is that God knows. You can’t be phony with Him and He can’t be fooled.
He’s always real. And I’m so glad.
Inside the Writer 