Why in the world did my parents name me meemer?

Well, this is all part of the my life Monday thing-y going on, and since I love trying to be popular, I'm going to participate. So the question is why?

I've said it before, and I have a post on it somewhere. But I'd just like to restate the fact that my parents were not hippies, they lived in the 60's, but they just didn't do "those" kind of things. Well, I'm not really sure on that one. You know, they keep surprising me all the time, so maybe....

I was the third girl of three. I have an older brother, honestly I do, I know, I rarely claim him. He's the oldest. He got the family name. William. Stately huh? The name I passed down to my first born. Then there was my 2 older sisters, who all got very normal sounding, and highly popular names. Then there was me. When it came time to name me, my parents must have been sick of the seventies and were trying to embrace their good old English roots.

My name...Yup... I hated it. I hated it because it was different, and I didn't want to be. I hated it because nobody said it right, and nobody spelled it right. I hated it because old people would pinch my chubby cheeks and tell me it was a BEEE-UUU---TIFUULL name. I hated it so much I didn't want to use it. Ever.

Sad huh? Well, it was years later when I was all growed up, when I finally embraced my name. I dating this dude from college, and he said my name in such a way, made me week in the knees. I don't think I ever admitted to that one before. Finally when the family history bug bit me, and left a big old bite mark, I did some research on it. I actually found the death certificate for the woman I was named after. Same name, first and last. It was kind of eerie. I guess my parents really just liked the name. Maybe they pulled out the pedigree charts, closed their eyes and pointed. I can't really complain anymore. Honestly, I got chilly's name from a headstone at my grandparents cemetery.


So what is in a name? A lot of letters. A piece of nostalgia, and a social security number. No, there is a bit of history. Not from the lady who died about a million years ago, I'm talking about my history. I don't' think I could have ever been who I am now, without that name. If I hadn't hated it SOOO much, I wouldn't have ever picked the name meemer. If I had never had that cool nickname, I never would have been a class officer at my local high school. Which never would have set me on the path for the scholarships, which never would have led to my school choice, or my major choice. In which I never would have met Big D. Therfore never having this so-called stay-at-home cozy lifestyle. Never. So it all comes down to my name. Sort of.

So, if you are reading this mom and dad, thanks for the name. No, really. I love the fact that it is different, and that I always have to spell it for everyone. I love the fact that every once in a while I come across someone living with it. It really is one of my favorite things, and no matter what I threatened when I was 10, I don't think I will ever change it. It is who I am.














...Of course that offer does not apply if I ever become part of the infamous witness relocation program, and have to change my appearance by altering my boobies, gaining 50 pounds, shaving my head, and lasering off the stretched out and moldy tattoo. If that happens, I plan on sticking to the name meemer.