February 13, 2007
Two friends were listening to my moans and laments.
“Maybe you need some chocolate?’ one suggested.
“Nah. Not today.”
“No chocolate?”
“No.”
They knew serious action was called for.
“I know what you need,” said one. “We need to get you a pair of bright pink sparkling thongs.”
“Oh, yes.” I answered, horrified at the vision I imagined. “Can’t you just see the shape of me prancing around in sparkling pink thongs with the size of my behind?”
They looked at one another and then burst into fits of laughter and hooting.
I felt miffed. I knew my cavorting in thongs might not be the epitome of fashion or the ideal of beauty, but I thought the merriment was a bit OTT (over the top).
“Come on!” I spluttered. “Surely I wouldn’t look too bad if I took the sparkles off?” They laughed more.
“Thongs ... th ...” the hooting started again.
“Maybe if I got a larger size, I might look better?”
The tears were now rolling down their faces. I thought that only Irish and Italians could laugh and cry at the same time.
“They must have some Celtic or Latino blood in their veins,” I mused.
Their merriment was contagious so I decided I might as well join in. After several minutes of this my low energy had changed and I forgot what I had been depressed about.
“What are we laughing at anyway?”
“Eileen, you wear thongs on your feet, not your bum.”
Now it was my turn to laugh. I got the picture.
Translations followed. I learned that thongs are flip-flops in America; in Ireland they are skimpy knickers. My friends wanted to set my feet a-dancing, and I wanted to go-a-prancing.
Now, wouldn’t you think that when you learn and speak fluent English you would be understood in English-speaking places? Not so. Thongs are only the tip of the iceberg when it comes to English-American translation. My two friends took delight in my use of the word knickers for thongs.
I am still trying to master English as spoken in American. I still put “petrol” in my car, my luggage in its “boot”, check under its “bonnet”, leave it in a “car park” when I go shopping, and put it in my “gar-rage” at night. That is just for cars.
On this occasion, we stayed with underwear.
“Come to think of it,” I said, when the laughing drifted into that comfortable zone of silence which invites friends to drink deeply in each other’s presence, “knickers are a funny subject; but what happens when differences are not so funny? What happens when our attempts at words cause pain or confusion?”
Have you noticed how easily we women can shift gear and glide into deeper conversations when we gather as friends? On this occasion we moved from thongs and knickers to the challenges of words.
We shared about the times in our lives, when we have been hurt deeply by cruel words that people have tried to excuse by saying:
“Oh! I didn’t mean it that way.”
I have done the same.
Words can be used to build us up, tear us down, bring us closer or drive us further apart.
“Where did we ever get that saying: ‘Sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me’? Where on earth did it come from?” one of my friends asked.
“I can think of hurtful names I have been called,” the other said.
“Hmm. Do you ever call yourself hurtful names?”
We looked at each other.
“What?”
“Well, when I come to think of it, I often put myself down in my mental conversations.”
The silence wafted across the room and held us in its embrace.
“You’re right.” I said. “ I often say: “Eileen, you silly this-that-or-the other.”
“Why do we do it to ourselves?”
Why do we?
I have tried to embark on a newer course where I aim to speak more positively to myself as well as to others. I have not changed my middle name to Pollyanna, but I am trying to have gentler and more positive conversations with myself. When I first started writing I called myself an amazing variety of derogatory names expressing my total incompetence and stupidity in trying to understand the computer and matters technological. Now I congratulate myself on my new achievements, and my ability and willingness to ask for help.
I am now trying to make the same linguistic shift when I am driving; but that is another blog (and one that may be censored).
Comments
rvonknorring (rvonknorring) says...
Having made friends with a few folks from England living here in Costa Rica, I have learned MANY differences in our languages. I am familiar with the ones you pointed out, but I have also learned that a "jumper" is a sweater, an "all in" is a big breakfast, and a "carry all" is a duffle bag. I was corrected by my friends when I referred to my belly bag as a "fanny pack". I was told NOT to call it that ever again, around them at least. Funny stuff!
February 14, 2007 at 10:13 a.m. ( permalink | suggest removal )
eroddy (eroddy) says...
Yes, Ronna, the thing with cars and knickers is only the beginning. I was once at a Theology Conference in London, with loads of bishops, nuns and priests in attendance, and, at the break, the priest who was giving the lecture told us to stand up and "rub our fannies". The silence that whistled across the room was something else. The strange thing was that no-one made a move to tell him. I decided that I needed to do that and, when I explained things to him, he wanted to crawl into a hole. I thought I was going to have to call the ambulance for him.
Clothing is something else; you are right with jumpers and sweaters (complicated by the Irish calling them ganzies). Then there is cardigan or "cardie" for the sweater that buttons down the front; waiscoat for what you call a vest, and vest is what a man wears underneath his shirt. We call a short padded jacket an anorak, use the word pants for underweat (men or women)and American pants become trousers. You can imagine the fun and confusion my husband and I have from time to time as we cope with transatlantic translations.
February 14, 2007 at 4:01 p.m. ( permalink | suggest removal )
Theresa (anonymous) says...
Okay, I'll bite. What does "fanny" mean in the U.K.?
February 14, 2007 at 4:55 p.m. ( permalink | suggest removal )
eroddy (eroddy) says...
In Ireland and the UK, "fanny" is another word for "vagina", Theresa.
February 14, 2007 at 10:31 p.m. ( permalink | suggest removal )
sujimama (anonymous) says...
I got a funny birthday card from a friend where 2 women are walking down the beach with thongs (flip flops) sticking out of theif bums ( a drawing, not a realy picture) and one is saying "I thought you said no one would notice our thongs)
February 27, 2007 at 6:10 p.m. ( permalink | suggest removal )
eroddy (eroddy) says...
Wow! The card writer must have listened into my conversation!
March 3, 2007 at 10:18 p.m. ( permalink | suggest removal )
bigsheep (anonymous) says...
This article made me laugh out loud,
Thanks
Anne
April 2, 2007 at 3:37 p.m. ( permalink | suggest removal )
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