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In my life I'd had the opportunity to name many things.
I've named pets, dolls, my two children, my fictional town
in CityVille, my blog and blog posts, characters in my not-even-fully-written and likely never-to-be-published book, and much more.
One name that I've always wished I had a say in is my own name. I don't like my name. It's long and often misspelled. It's not a name I would come close to putting on a name list for a daughter. I have NO idea why my parents chose it.
So, I've always has these fantasies where I could live a different life with a different name. Who doesn't?
When I was in early middle school, a couple of girlfriends and I used to enjoy going to the local skating rink for a couple of hours on a weekend night. Going there took a small drive out of town, so we didn't get to go very often, maybe once a month or less. It was a hangout for teens and preteens, and was actually a really safe and rather wholesome place to be. I lived in quite a small Midwestern town of about 1,500 people that was surrounded by many other small communities, and the skating rink was one of the few places that had some semblance of a "nightlife" for kids. Because of this, there were always kids from other towns there on any given night. Strangers that we didn't know and may not even see again. Being the sophisticated sixth grade girls we were, we wanted to maintain an aura of mystery and "hot" at all times, so we decided before going the very first time that our own names had to be changed in our first step to impressing unknown boys that we would flirt and skate with, then never ever see again. Hopefully.
We talked and talked about what our new names should be. This was serious, very important stuff we were dealing with. These would be the names we would present to people who didn't know us. We had to choose wisely and perfectly. They had to sound natural. They had to "fit" who we were. And most importantly, we had to easily remember them so we didn't fuck up our ruse.
What name did I choose? I'm telling you, you aren't even going to believe it when I tell you. I had the chance to erase my real name for an evening, and choose my dream name. The name I'd always wanted but couldn't have. The name I'd want some girl to mention when she talked about me in jealousy behind my back. The name I'd want some boy to whisper to his friends when mentioning how hot I was as I skated by with my permed hair and rolled up jean bottoms.
I decided that on skating rink nights, I would be referred to as "Constance."
I can't even believe my own damn self.
Not Tiffany. Not Jennifer or Shelby or Ashley. (cool names in the 80s)
I pretty much picked THE lamest possible name for myself.
Jesus Herbert Christ I was a big-banged, Guess jeans wearing, Swatch watch owning, loser.
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Awww... thanks, Miss Sarcasm!! But wait! There's still time for YOU to share your secret alias! Link up below, or leave a comment. And stay tuned for next week's theme, "Best. Story. Ever." Come on, you know you've got one!!