I told a lie.
I told it multiple times.
I told it over and over. I told it ten times, one hundred times. If I told it once, I told it a thousand times. I must have said it a million times. I told it infinity times infinity.
I told a fib. I told a tall tale. I told a cock-and-bull story. I did a song and dance. I told a whopper.
I falsified information. I misrepresented the facts. I perjured myself.
I told a little white lie. I told a whole pack of lies. I lied down with dogs and picked up some fleas. I lied like a rug. I lied in wait. I lied in ruins. I lied at death’s door.
I told it with a look. I told it through my teeth. I told it with a smile.
I told it in a whisper. I mentioned it in casual conversation. I shouted it from the rooftops. I told it to the ends of the earth. I told it to the moon and back. I declared it to the heavens.
I put it mildly. I put it bluntly. I told it to the best of my ability. I told it with piss and vinegar. I told it with vim and vigor.
My lie was an all-out effort. It spared no effort. It was a last-ditch effort.
I told it at full strength. It was my main strength. It was my weakness. It did not know its own strength. It was my pillar of strength.
