Not everyone noticed at first. Days would pass as a child that I could go completely undetected. But as I grew older, it became more and more obvious. Finally, here I am at the end of my teens, and I bet you even a deaf man could hear it. No matter how I tried to mask it there it was, a thick accent that made it difficult for me to be understood by anyone.The Engladian accent I was cursed with from birth that progressed with age and maturity as I did. My mother had trouble as I was reaching my early teens. My dad lost all capabilities in understanding me when I started wearing make up and consequently wasn't daddy's little girl anymore. My brother, having grown up with it, is more used to it than anyone I would imagine. Now if one of you were to greet me on the street, you wouldn't notice it at first. But were I to stop you and ask how your grandmother's bridge player's son was, you would find it near impossible. So, although I am no great writer, I am going to attempt to help you acquire a taste for it.
Now you may be asking yourself, "What's an Engladian?" Well, it's exactly what you'd think it to be: the offspring of one Canadian and one Englishman. There is where I lay the blame. Mother and Father. So stereotypical and yet so unconventional that there was no other choice but to produced a child of the same standings. It would stand to reason. In some ways, it's made me lucky: my unconventional life lead to who I am and thats all well and good. But for the things I can't change (my hair color, hot temper, similar expressions, and a nagging conscience I can't shake) I will place all the blame on their shoulders. It just suits me that way.
My parents met at an Alaskan bible college back in the 80's. Dad was in prime seeking a pastoral licence and mom was going for her nursing degree. He was a redheaded ex-seaman recently free of a drinking problem. She was a blonde haired-blue eyed woman in her 30's whose idealistic morals kept her pure. What they found in common I have no clue but after a year or so, they did share one solid, eight pound thing in common: me.
Here I am, 19 years later and still dealing with my accent. Very few people have taken the time to understand it (my boyfriend, best friends, and a few spare others) but that isn't enough. Which is why, I have taken it upon the challenge of expanding and befriending you...whoever you are.
