White Lies Matter by Madeleine Armstrong
from MOTHER: a PUNK NOIR Magazine series
White Lies Matter
by
Madeleine Armstrong
Lisa twirls, sending up layers of white tulle, her smile reflected back a hundred times in the bridal shop’s mirrors.
“How do I look?”
Like a hippo in a meringue, I think but bite my tongue. I’ve been practising my white lies; turns out I’ve been doing it wrong for years and most people don’t want the truth.
Lisa cranes to capture all the angles, each equally unforgiving. Flab overspills the strapless bodice. She’s always been chubby, but these days she’s not even trying: no calorie counting, no exercise. I sometimes can’t believe we’re related.
“You don’t think it’s a bit…”
Tight? Low cut? Inappropriate for a mother of two? I clamp my lips together, my palms sweating.
“Sexy?” she asks. “For a wedding, I mean.”
I hum and pretend to consider it. The silence becomes elastic and the corners of Lisa’s mouth dip as she stares at her reflection. She’s probably picturing her fairytale wedding, all those magazines her teenage self snipped up, stick-thin models in shining white.
I clear my throat. Go against all my better instincts. “You look beautiful. I’m so proud.”
There’s a flicker of surprise, then her reflection beams back at me. “Thanks, Mum.”
Bio:
Madeleine Armstrong won the Hammond House international short story prize in 2023, and has been published by Flash Fiction Magazine, Fussub Mag, The Hooghly Review, LISP, Moonflake, National Flash Fiction Day, Trash Cat Lit, Underbelly Press, Waffle Friedand WestWord. She’s a journalist and runner, and lives in south-east London with her husband, son and two cats. Twitter/X @Madeleine_write; Bluesky @madeleinewrite.bsky.social