While on the phone the other night, I was asked a question I have probably answered a thousand times in my life: "Where are you from?" Similar questions include: "Are you from the south?" and "Where'd you learn to talk like that?" There are many more – and, trust me, I've heard them all.

I never understand how people hear my accent, I think I sound pretty normal. I guess I do put a twist on certain words. Some friends claim I say the word "why" a little different from the rest of the English speaking population. Somehow the one syllable word suddenly gains three more: "Whiiiieeey?" Hey, at least I get my question across.

So everyone at Notre Dame assumes that because I'm from Kentucky, all Kentuckians must talk like I do. Think again.

I went to high school thirty-five minutes outside my hometown - all the way to the big city of Lexington. And believe me, the insults occurred there too.

In fact, my nickname freshman year was none other than Forrest Gump. I can't tell you how many times I heard, "Run Forrest, run," or "this seat's taken." You know something's wrong when fellow Kentuckians are knockin' your accent!

However, the worst comment I ever heard was last semester in CORE class. We were discussing the effect of accents on people's perceptions. "When someone is on TV or the radio with a British accent, I automatically think that they are intelligent," said a fellow classmate. She then looked at me and said, "No offense, but when someone talks with a southern accent, I automatically think they are dumb." Ok, so she meant it as a joke. That's okay, I'm laughing it up over here.

Ha Ha Ha.

I guess people like her made me think I should be ashamed of my Southern drawl. People like her made me try to imitate my best friend's Chicago accent. Unfortunately, I don't sound like Chicagoans and those "a's" just yet.

Following a summer home in Clark County, my accent is now as strong as ever. Everyone seems to notice it. Twice a week I tutor middle school-ers, and, as you know, they can be heartless. "You're not from around here are you? ... Are you some country girl? ... Man -- You can't talk!" I try to tell myself what a fifth grader thinks doesn't matter, but even that 11-year old recognizes I'm different. However, different is good, right? I'm starting to realize that even though my dialect does make me different, that's ok. I'm embracing my southern accent.

Y'all keep the insults comin' - Whiiiiieeeey? Because I'm proud of this accent. I love the great state of Cantuckee. If I do say so myself, it's the best one in the union.

• Y'all gotta problem with my accent?