By Any Other Name

I have a foul mouth.  I have an offensive, vulgar, foul mouth. I drop swear words into conversation the way good bakers drop chocolate chips into cookies: liberally.

I come from a long line of swearing women.  This is not my defense; I am simply providing the backstory.  You know in “A Christmas Story” when Ralphie describes his father dabbling in cussing the way other artists dabble in paints?  That is my family.  My sister has been known to put a stream of words together that no living person has every thought of uttering.  While this can be shocking and intense, it also makes me giggle.  So I guess I am childish as well.

God, in His irony, has given me a beautiful daughter who, since starting middle school, grows fouler mouthed by the day.  “Pretty girl, ugly mouth” I hypocritically tell her.  Or “boys are not impressed with bad language” – which is a lie because I know they think it is cool at age 12.  Or “common language makes you sound common.”  She raises a well-arched eyebrow at me with a knowing look that says “Really, kettle?”

There have been two times in my life where I have listened to people who have commented on my salty tone and tried to tone it down.  The first was in high school when my BFF’s mom said she’d never heard someone so young with such a poor vocabulary.  I liked her and valued her opinion of me so I tried to clean up my act in front of her.  The second time was when Bill and I were dating and he commented on how much I swore.  It surprised me because I didn’t even realize it.  I have made a marked effort to clean it up because it really does offend his polite Canadian sensibilities.  Although, I will tell you, having some inside knowledge, they may be polite with their words, but look into an angry Canadian’s eyes.  You can hear what they are really thinking.  It goes something like this: “bloody beeping animal beep stupid beeped hockey beep beep jerk-faced beeping beepers of beep GOD SAVE THE QUEEN you beeping beep beep beeper!”  I swear this is true.

It was only a matter of time before I slipped at work and I have.  My use of a lesser grade swear word offended the ears of a student.  I thought it and I used it to describe a behavior and it was coming out of my mouth as my brain was screaming “Nooooooooo!”  There will be ramifications which I deserve because it was unprofessional.  This incident, while providing me great anxiety, has also shown me just how immune I am to vulgarity and in listening to conversations around me, I know that I am not alone.  Is there a way to re-sensitize one’s self to the shock value of a well-placed or timed cuss?  Or a way to think it but not say it?

I am no longer a practicing Catholic, but I still carry some of that good Catholic guilt around.  It is now Lent and people around me are giving up wine (!) or chocolate or things that make them happy and it makes me feel guilty like I should give joyful things up too.  Because it is a season of denial and atonement, perhaps I should give up swearing for Lent.  Forty days and nights of curse-free, Canadian-approved vocabulary.  Can it be done?  I have no idea.  If it can’t be done, can I least curb it?  I am most interested to see if not saying it aloud makes me stop thinking it in my brain. 

Tonight will be a hard as there will be beer with coworkers after work.  Some people like beer and pretzels, some like beer and a bummed cigarette.  I like a nice amber ale and cuss words.  I really do.  It will be a real test because I am craving an f-bomb in the same way an ex-smoker looks for their morning cigarette.