Being born without a tongue, lower teeth and bottom lip causes your speech to have a constant underlying "ssss". Some words are more difficult to say than others: Ds and Gs sound like Bs; Cs and Ks like Ts. So, instead of saying dog, I call all dogs puppies.
I sometimes forget what I sound like until I hear a recording. As a researcher, I transcribe interviews in which I've tried hard to be clear, using techniques learned from childhood speech therapy. I still cringe when I hear myself pronounce certain words.
Repeating yourself is tiring. People I speak to often understand me better than those I speak to only once a week, such as my family. My mother's most used phrase is, "Sorry, I didn't quite catch that." Meeting people is difficult: they lose interest quickly when it's hard work for them to listen, so I overcompensate by being loud. It doesn't always work. One date with a deaf guy was a particular low: his hearing aids could pick up only so much and lip-reading was impossible.
I don't mind being asked about it, but it depends what you ask. A guy at work asks every six months – maybe he thinks something has changed. But I'd rather you asked than stared. If I notice, I'll stare back to make you as uncomfortable as you're making me. I'm more than "the girl with the mouth problems", as one friend's mum described me. Talk to me about something other than what I look and sound like.
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