It is a problem for single women.
Who are you?
I find myself at an odd crossroads for the first time. It didn't really dawn on my until this weekend while I was visiting a good friend, Lori, over state lines. It's nice to be close to several state lines where I can just hop over and visit. And old friends makes me feel at home.
While sitting on her sofa, I looked up at the mantel and admired her family name framed in glass. It was very tasteful. It looked like this, only in letters and themes that went with their family interests, then it was framed in a nice black frame.
I mentioned that I liked it very much and it was clever. Lori told me she had the kit and she could print the letters I needed for my family sign. Immediately, I got excited. Then just as fast I got deflated.
Who the FUCK am I?
What name would I be?
I couldn't use my maiden name because it doesn't include my daughter. I couldn't use my current name because it doesn't include my daughter. I couldn't use her name, because I am not that and it doesn't include me.
So who the FUCK are we?
I was perplexed. I mean, I got the *blink*blink* going on in my head which transposed to the eyes and I stared at Lori. Despite how many time she asked me what letters she should print, I could not tell her an answer. So, I opted out of the program. There won't be any names on my walls.
Then, this bothered me.
For the whole weekend.
Why? Because I overANALyze everything.
All my life, I have been very sure of myself. For 20 years, I was profoundly my maiden name and proud of it. For over half of my entire life, I was known as my first husband's name and proud of it. Then I got divorced. I kept his name until I married again. Then divorce strikes twice. FMITA. I don't think of myself as his name anymore, although I have it.
It is only because to change your name as a woman divorced and all that is the biggest pain in the ass. I have to bring all paperwork from the birth to the marriage to the divorce to the marriage to the divorce. Well fuck you, government. I have to bring more papers to prove who I am than an illegal alien needs to be in this country. I can only blame myself, for I got myself into this predicament.
When I was married, I was always proud to take the man's name.
But now I find myself LOST.
If I was going to hang a name plate in the Harry Potter House, I would take the last three letters from my first name and the last three from my daughter's name. We are now known as:
RYN & SON.
So, fuck you, sign company.