Nicky Rennie: A linguistic lifestyle commitment (not resolution) to do better

"Over time, my mouth has become revolting" writes Nicky Rennie. Photo / 123RF

OPINION:

Happy New Year.

It’s like 2022, but a few days later. It’s that time of year when people generally take stock of the year that was and look forward to what the next year will bring and hope like heck that it isn’t as much of a struggle as 2022 was. It’s also a time to hit the refresh button and attempt to be a better person with no flaws. Enter the New Year’s Resolution.

As I do when I want to garner public opinion, I go to Aunty Facebook and ask my friends. Bear in mind that they are all roughly the same age as me. Fifty or slightly over. The general consensus from all of them was “get stuffed, life is too tough to place any more restrictions on ourselves”. I concur. I was too busy panicking about the lack of eggs and the price we now pay to actually give it much thought. Then I did.

Driving alongside the Whanganui River since January 1 there is a plethora of people hauling their backsides in order to get themselves fit. It is quite clearly the most common resolution. I give it two weeks and those same people will be languishing on the couch watching Netflix with a beer in hand.

Some of the people I have witnessed look like they are on their last legs. Definitely not smiling and can probably hear their heart beating in their ears. I say this because any time I have tried running that is my experience. A horrid state of affairs.

Whilst still worrying about the lack of eggs and comparing it to buying smack cocaine on the black market, I managed to look inwards enough to find a horrible trait of mine that I have decided to change. I’m not calling it a New Year’s Resolution; I’m calling it a lifestyle change.

Over time, my mouth has become revolting. As a broadcaster all my life and someone who considers herself a cunning linguist, I am horrified with this turn of events. I drop the F-Bomb far too often. It signifies a lack of vocabulary and thought, and I am determined to do better.

I understand that language changes through the generations, but when did being a potty mouth become the norm? I am proud to say that I never, ever swore on air, then all of a sudden once I’d changed professions, I heard announcers swearing all the time on air and it made my skin crawl. Hypocritical in the extreme as I added a few colourful expletives to my daily conversation.

I feel like I should be in a 12-step programme for this affliction, however, the first step is actually recognising the fact that I sound like a guttersnipe. It does take a little thought to use a different word, but I’m determined to slow down and find better expletives.

Apart from telling you now, I have only told one other person who I work with that I am determined to make the change. He laughed and laughed. Great motivation to prove him wrong, however, that was living proof that my mouth is out of control. He looked at me like I had two heads and said “F off, it’ll never happen”.

As anyone who has been part of a 12-step programme will tell you, admission is the first step to recovery. Clearly, I am much too far down the track to be a nun, however, I’m determined to have a new and improved mouth that doesn’t live in the toilet.

It was my father that pointed it out to me. I didn’t upset him, I just disappointed him. A fate worse than death. My father’s opinion is of the utmost importance to me, so there really was no question that change needed to be made. On the plus side, he is now a bit hard of hearing, so if I slip up, he may not notice (unless his lip-reading skills are en pointe).

Wish me luck. Unlike those who have thrown their bodies to the wall over the last two weeks, I’m praying for longevity here. I will still be able to sit on the couch watching Netflix, but not swear. Winning!