Yesterday, my boss asked me to be "brutally honest" about something, and so I was. For a moment, everyone looked at me like I had violated all the cardinal rules of office culture before they agreed with me. Serious life lessons have taught me to taper my natural inclination towards honesty, but when used sparingly, it can be effective.

Indirectness was never an issue in my family of origin. When it came to opinions, there was little subtext or need for further inquiry. Growing up, I rarely heard, "But what do you really think?", or "Come on, don't hold back," or even, "I can take it, really. I want to know." If my madre didn't like my hair, I was privileged to know about it. If my late grandmother didn't like the gift I gave her, it was in the trunk, on it's way back to Sears. I didn't think that I had the genetic make-up for this kind of directness, but apparently, when asked, I do.

Just for today, I can be honest (when asked).