I was reading a women’s magazine while sitting under the hair dryer waiting for my color to set. It may have been Women’s Health, but I’m not sure. I’m only sure that its demographic is women much, much younger than I am. (But are there any print magazines out there for us?)
In the ten minutes I took to read only one-third of the issue, I counted five weird shortened words. I’ve gotten used to “meds” for medicines and “scrips” for prescriptions, and I understand that it’s easier to say and write a word that has one syllable than one that has three. This is especially important when you’re trying to fit everything into a tweet.
But the more pages I turned in this magazine, the more short forms of words I saw that I’d never before encountered. In some cases, it took me a few seconds to figure out their meaning. Here are the ones I jotted down before I decided to give up and read something else:
Convo….conversation (The “o” at the end tripped me up here. Without context, I never would have figured it out.)
Rando….random (Really, is this any shorter? Would it be so much trouble to include the damn last letter?)
Sitch…situation (Don’t get me started on the “ch” here! Sure, they shortened the word from four syllables to one, but are we really saving ink here?)
Obvi…obvious (What? This is just silly.)
Vag….vagina (I’ve heard other short forms, or maybe more polite and printable forms, but this is a new one for me.)
Days later, I saw the front of a Target flyer and was drawn to this phrase in bold type: for your grill sesh. Yes, it was Target. Yes, it said “sesh,” which I assume was short (and not so sweet) for “session.”
I majored in English in college and spent 40 years editing and writing at work, so it’s no wonder I get annoyed by this desecration of the language. But I’m not an old fuddy-duddy either. At work, I evolved from technical writing and editing to creating marketing copy. The stricter grammar rules needed for a report to the Department of Energy, for example, softened when I started writing catalog and web copy. It was okay to start a sentence with “and” or “but” and pop in a few sentence fragments. For effect.
But I scratch my head over these short forms of everyday words, especially when they’re in print and an article is not restricted to 140 characters…including spaces. It looks like pure laziness, but I think the writers/editors are trying hard to sound hip. And, of course, attract young readership. Unlike our forgotten demographic who, presumably, doesn’t spend as much on the nail polish and mascara that their advertisers are selling.
Well, maybe I am an old fuddy-duddy after all.