I’m an avid reader. A writer. A mildly OCD grammarphobe. An English major. A grown ass woman with above average intelligence, for heaven’s sake. So why do I sound out certain words in my head every single time?

Sometimes it’s a long, slow drawl. Sometimes I’m adding an extra sound to suss out that silent letter. Whatever the reason, it seems there are some words I just can’t write out without these mental calisthenics.

Shoot. It looks like I need to add calisthenics to my list now, too.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Cologne.  Cuh-lown-ya. Co-low-n. Coh-loh-nwhu. Oh for heaven’s sake, I’ll just use perfume.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Bologna.  Spelling is just one of the reasons I’m grateful I don’t eat this oddly processed meat anymore.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Quinoa.  Seriously? Seriously?! That’s how you pronounce it? Well, okay…but now I’ve got a front tuck, roundoff, double back handspring, back layout sort of routine just to put it down on paper.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Brussels sprouts.  Don’t forget the s. Plural. Brussels. Yes, yes, I know the country but geography’s the last thing I’m thinking about when planning vegetable dishes. Which brings us to that capital B.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Worcestershire sauce.  Wor-chest-er-shur. Whir-chester-shurrr. Wer-chest-er-sure. No amount of spelling calisthenics has gotten me to spell this word correctly. Ever. Including in this blog post. Bless.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Conscientious.  Con-shee-en-shus. Con-s(c)hee-n-shus. Con-science-tious. I plod out those syllables like a determined Clydesdale along with the inevitable “versus conscious” thrown in for good measure.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Hierarchy.  High-er-arc-ee. Hi-er-arch-ee. Hi-er-arch-y. I can usually get there with this one.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Colonel.  Kernel…kernel…okay, so basically it’s nothing like the word. Co-lo-ne-l. WTF is wrong with this language??