I Was Born With a Resting Bitch Face – Chapter 9 – Pronunciation

Every day, I remind myself of one thing.

At least I no longer sound like I’m sexually harassing people in English.

And I’m pretty proud of that.

Because I fixed it.

You see, in my native languages, vowels are generally short. We don’t stretch them into completely different sounds the way English does.

And the English I learned at school?

British English.

Which was perfectly fine.

Until I moved to Canada.

Where can’t can sound dangerously close to cunt if you pronounce it the wrong way.

And Coke?

Well, that can sound like cock.

Now imagine me at McDonald’s.

“Can I have a Coke?”

“Can you wait?”

“No, I can’t.”

Two sentences.

Two potential sexual references.

And all I wanted was a fucking drink.

This is why I take pronunciation seriously.

I grew up bilingual.

Studied two other languages at school.

A different one at university.

Then moved to a country where I needed to learn a sixth language.

And eventually moved again, to a country where all those years of studying English finally became useful.

Sort of.

Because knowing a language and actually speaking it are two very different things.

Especially when the people around you have absolutely no idea what you’re trying to say.

These days, I speak five languages.

Badly.

Three of them daily.

Which sounds impressive until you realize I can forget a perfectly normal word in all five at the same time.

I know what I want to say.

I can picture it.

I can probably explain it in three different languages.

But the actual word?

Gone.

Sometimes I start a sentence in one language, think in another, and finish it in a third.

And then wonder why everybody is looking at me.

So when I speak, I’m concentrating.

On the words.

The pronunciation.

The grammar.

Whether the person understands me.

Whether I accidentally just said something completely inappropriate.

And whether I even understand myself anymore.

Do you know what my face looks like while I’m doing all that?

Exactly.

Resting bitch face.

I’m not angry.

I’m not judging you.

I’m just trying to get through one conversation without accidentally insulting somebody’s mother.

And if I manage that?

Excellent.

Another successful day.

I still have an accent.

Probably always will.

I’m fine with that.

I don’t need to sound like I was born here.

I just need people to understand what I’m saying.

Preferably without calling HR.

And if my face looks a little too serious while I’m speaking?

Trust me.

You should hear what’s happening inside my head.