The Lie That Wouldn't Quit

Or, This Is How You End Up With a Giant Top Hat Tattoo

Have you ever watched someone dig themselves deeper into a hole and thought, “Oh no, dear, just stop” - while also being completely unable to look away?

That’s the magic of Superstore, the American sitcom that ran from 2015 to 2021, and honestly one of the most underrated shows of its era. Six years of brilliantly written, lovably ridiculous characters engaging in chaos, awkwardness, and absurdity, punctuated by moments that are so over-the-top you almost miss how accurate they are. If you’ve never watched it, first of all - what are you doing with your life? And second, there’s an episode that keeps popping into my mind recently, not just because it’s hilarious, but because it tells the truth.

Here’s what happens in Season 4, Episode 13, titled “Lovebirds.”

Marcus wants to surprise his mom with a tattoo of her face on his back. Sweet, (if a bit misguided) right? Except he can’t get an appointment at a real tattoo salon. Enter Cheyenne, who is technically taking a tattoo class and claims - with full confidence - to be the best in her class.

You can see where this is going.

The tattoo is… gruesome. Not even remotely his mother. More like something you’d expect to see on a haunted house wall. Cheyenne realizes this pretty quickly, so she does what many of us do when we mess up:

She tries to fix it.

Except her version of “fixing it” is tattooing a hat over the disaster… and then redoing the face under the hat… which still looks horrifying… so the hat gets bigger… and bigger… until it becomes a full-blown top hat situation that Marcus did NOT ask for.

Meanwhile, Marcus is lying there in agony, trusting the process, fully believing he’s about to unveil a beautiful tribute to his dear mother.

Photo by Fenghua on Unsplash

By the end, he’s got a massive, infected, deeply regrettable situation happening on his back - and the truth is no longer avoidable.

It’s painful. It’s ridiculous. And somehow… it’s hilarious.

But also?

It’s us.

Cheyenne didn’t set out to ruin anything. She made a mistake - a pretty permanent one, unfortunately - and then did the next very human thing: she tried to cover it up.

Because dealing with the truth is uncomfortable.

Owning a mistake is humbling.

Admitting, “I shouldn’t have done that” or “I got this wrong” doesn’t exactly feel like a good time.

So instead, you adjust. You justify. You layer something on top of it. Then something else. And before you know it, you’re managing a whole circus that never needed to come to town in the first place.

It’s not like you wake up and decide, “Today feels like a great day to lie to myself.”

But when you’re not ready to face something, that’s exactly what happens.

And here’s the tricky part: you can’t lie to yourself and be fully honest with the world at the same time. It doesn’t work like that.

One small avoidance turns into another. Then another. Until you’ve built this towering eyesore of “it’s fine,” “it made sense at the time,” and “I don’t want to think about it.”

And underneath it all?

The original thing is still sitting there, unresolved.

The only way out is back - to the beginning. To the first moment something went sideways. And just look at it honestly.

That’s the part people don’t seem to love. But it’s also the part that sets you free.

And honestly, I think that’s why I laugh so hard at that Superstore episode.

Because it’s exaggerated just enough to make the point painfully impossible to ignore.

We’ve all been Marcus at some point - lying there, hoping everything is turning out better than it actually is.

We’ve all been Cheyenne - thinking, “I can fix this,” while rapidly and irreversibly making it worse.

And if we’re being really honest, most of us would prefer the version of the story where someone just says, “Hey… this isn’t going well,” early on.

Before the top hat.

Before the infection.

Before the whole thing becomes… a character that needs its own credits in the show.

There’s also something else in this that I’ve come to appreciate more than I expected:

Humor.

Some people think that seeking comedy in tragedy is insensitive. And I get that. There’s a time and a place. But hear me out for just a minute.

There’s something powerful about being able to laugh - even just a little - at something that used to feel heavy. Because where you can find humor, you’ve stepped outside of yourself just enough to stop taking it all so seriously. And taking yourself too seriously is self-judgment in disguise. Judgment tries to keep you safe. But judgment, in any form, lives outside of love and doesn’t exactly create space for healing.

So whether you’ve had an abortion, lost someone you love, or carried any kind of pain - you’ll know you’re healing when you can find even the faintest glimmer of humor in something that once caused you pain.

Because humor softens things.

It doesn’t erase what happened. It doesn’t minimize it. It just loosens the grip.

I remember when certain jokes would hit a nerve so fast I’d feel it in my chest. No laughter. No distance. Just… ouch.

Now?

I can hear the same kind of joke and think, “Okay, yup - I see it.”

Maybe I don’t laugh out loud. Maybe it’s just a quiet, internal “ha.” But it’s real.

And that shift matters.

Because it means something inside has moved.

So maybe the goal isn’t never to make mistakes. (My friend, that ship has sailed.)

Maybe it’s to catch ourselves before we start building the top hat.

To notice when we’re covering instead of confronting.

To go back gently - without theatrics or self-punishment - to the original thing and tell the truth about it.

And maybe, somewhere along the way, to let ourselves find a little humor in being human.

Because honestly?

If we can’t laugh at a giant, infected, top-hat tattoo moment… then what are we even doing?

What’s a show or movie moment that made you laugh and cringe at the same time - the kind where you’re giggling but also covering your eyes? Tell me below. Make us all squirm a little. Because here’s the thing - the moment you can laugh at something uncomfortable, even just a little, is the moment it loses some of its grip on you. Please, everyone - help us all get to where we can lighten up just a little!