Last night we were watching some home video. It was video of Yahoo #1 playing the piano while I was giving instructions in the background. You can't see me, but boy-oh-boy can you hear me.
I sound like a hick.
I realize everyone has issues with their own recorded voice. But I sound like I grew up in Spanish Fork or worse... that dreadful desert called Delta. Or even worster, Sanpete County - that place with all the turkeys. Once we finished watching the Yahoo receive instructions from his hick-mom, I turn to Spouse. "I sound like a hick, don't I. Do I sound like a hick? Come on, be honest. Do I sound like a hick?"
Spouse is the right person to ask when it comes to all things hickish for he spent all of his high school years in Memphis, Tennessee. He knows a hick when he sees one. And he worked his darndest to ensure that when he left Memphis, he wouldn't return, and he wouldn't have an accent.
As a side note, can you believe that Spouse never made it to Graceland? He spent four years in Memphis and never made it to Graceland. I dare say that's a shame. I'm trying to convince him that he should attend his next high school reunion so as I can drop him off at the party then head on over to Graceland and pay some respects to Elvis.
So there I was, asking about the nature of my hick voice, to see if I've acquired that redneck Utah accent, and you know what he says? "Babe. You wouldn't be here if you spoke like a hick."
This is good news, yes? Of course it's good news because Mr. Too-Good-Fer-Memphis has deemed me hickless. However, one must read between lines. "You wouldn't be here if you spoke like a hick" also says that my speaking the hick dialect is a deal breaker. As in Spouse'd drop me like a two-bit cowgirl if'n I were ever to speak with that lazy Utah drawl. Do you see what this means? I cannot develop any sort of hick accent. Else Spouse and the Yahoos would be living in this here house without me.
So... does anyone know a good speech therapist?