It’s my first post and to commemorate the occasion, I thought that I would go over a few ground rules. I guess there’s just one, really. But it’s a big one. As I type this, it occurs to me that it may not be the most endearing way to start a new blog – naming your annoyances I mean – but it’s something that must be said.
My name is Jennifer. I was born in 1977 and according to my extensive Google search, “Jennifer” was the number one girl’s name during the year of my birth. While some people prefer super trendy or unusual names for their children, (i.e: Rainbow, North, Apple) my parents were and still are super mainstream. As a result, I have an outrageous number of friends who share my name. I was never the only “Jennifer” in my age group. In fact, in every classroom that I can remember my name was “Jennifer H.”. In Middle School my BFF was named Jennifer. We nicknamed ourselves J2 (that’s J-squared – as in Jennifer to the second power). Not because we were Junior Mathletes, but because we were…Middle Schoolers. And let’s face it: Middle Schoolers are strange.
Most people have nicknames. Especially those of us with longer first names and/or common first names. And honestly, I get the whole “nickname” thing. It’s a sign that someone likes you (or can’t stand you), it’s a sign that you are loved (or not).
It’s what people do. I accept that.
But there’s just one rule:
You can call me Jen, you can call me Jennifer…you can call me whatever. But do not call me Jenny.
That’s not my name.
The details of my disdain for the name “Jenny” originate way back when I was in first grade. That year, there were three Jennifer’s in our class: Jennifer H., Jennifer K., and … Jenny. Jenny stole people’s erasers and smelled like green beans. True story.
Sure, it’s been a few decades since I was in first grade. And I have no doubt that poor Jenny-Green-Beans has discovered that no one really needs 8 million tiny scented erasers by now. She’s probably become a really nice woman who gives back to her community and smells just lovely. But I’m still not committed to taking her name.
Some things just can’t be undone.
Names are important. I read that somewhere. If you can remember someone’s name it makes them feel loved. Thought of. Considered.
So – remember…It’s Jen. Not Jenny.