Name That Blogger!

At various times in my life, my name has been the bane of my existence.  My nickname, by which I am known to 98% of the people in my life, is KK.  Just those two little letters.  They come from the first letter of both my first and last name.  It seems so simple on paper.  But it can really throw people off.

"Haha...K and K?"

"Two K's??"

"Wait...just KK?"

"KK?  That's your name?"

"What does it stand for?"

"If you add one more K, it would be KKK."

"Do you know what it would be if you added one more K?"

"Does it stand for Karen Karen?" (I have honestly been asked this.)

"People really call you that?"

"I hate initial nicknames."

"I can't call you that because my friends will make fun of me for your name."

"I can't call you that because I know a lot of people with the same initials/nickname."

"I'm going to call you something else that I like better."

"That's a dumb name."

"Wait...what...say it again...K...K?"

And the beat goes on...

Clearly the general public has a strong opinion of initial nicknames.  Or at least my initial nickname.  

That's nothing though compared to my real first name.  That I am sharing for the first time ever on this blog.  Kirsten.  My first name is Kirsten.  The I comes before the R.  No one...and I repeat...no one likes to give me the courtesy of spelling it correctly.  I have it down to a science when I need to give someone my name.  I never say it first if I can help it.  I only spell it.  Slowly.  K.  I.  {long pause}  RSTEN.  And yet...it still almost always gets spelled incorrectly.  

Which brings me to the worst part of this name {take note parents-to-be...unique names = lifelong suffering}.  Pronounciation.  

My senator, Kirsten Gillebrand, who lives up the road, spells her name the same way but pronounces her name differently from me {or I should say, my parents.  If I had been involved in this name game, I would have picked Ann.  Without the E.  Everyone can pronounce Ann.  No one fights an Ann and tells her they don't like her name or she's wrong or it just doens't work for them to give her the courtesy of pronouncing it correctly...}.  

My name is pronounced curse-ten.  Curse...as in I am going to bloody curse you if you pronounce it differently after I so kindly correct you 47 times {ahem...you know who you are!}.  Not Kiersten.  Not Kristen.  Not Krissy, Kristal, Kristina, Kirsty, Kris, or Karen.  

I didn't pick my name.  I acknowledge that you dislike both my birth name and the nickname that I've begged you to please call me over and over and over again.  I hear you when you say it just doen't work for you.

But hear me now.  This is not funny to me.  This is my damn name.  Part of my identity.  It's not amusing to me or cute to me when you give me a laundry list of excuses you think are valid rationalizations to not give me the courtesy of calling me by the name I requested.  

I am just as worthy as everyone else of the respect to be called by my correct name.  If I introduce myself to you as KK, that's what you have permission to call me.  Just as if you introduce yourself to me as Patricia, I have permission to only call you Patricia, and not Pat or Trishy or Patty or Cia.  I don't get to pick a new name for you.  I don't get to change the way it's pronounced and then laugh when you grovel and beg me to please please pretty please give you the kindness required to just call you by the correct name.  

I am so sick and tired of begging.  It's embarrassing.  My name is tied to my identity.  It's two letters.  I'm in my late 30's.  I'm so over this discussion.  I'm so over being polite.  I'm so over being laughed at and mocked and belittled and told my name just doesn't work for you.  

Across the board, I have officially reached my breaking point.  Call me whatever you want in your head.  But if I am called anything other than KK out loud or in writing, I will simply stop calling you back.

This little crocodile has had one too many people the past few months change my name to suit their own damn needs.  

What's your name?  Does it give you grief too?  Or did you give your child a name that is sure to be a sore subject for decades to come?