Hated My Name!

 As a child, I hated my name. It was so boring.  Teachers often mispronounced it which created belly-aching laughter from the class, ALWAYS.  How hard was it for an adult to realize that the BOY version of my name was not spelled like MY name? And worst of all? Nobody else had my name and nobody ever sang a beautiful ballad to a girl with my name. (NO MOM! That duwop song from 1963 is far from cool even though that is where I got it from.)

My mother used to say that if ever she were to had a girl, she was going to name her Lisa Marie, but a family member beat me to that very awesome name by a year.  I mean who wouldn't want to be named for Elvis' only (known) child, right?

But alas, pre-sonograms, the doctors all said I was to be a boy.  Heart rate.  How she carried.  Blah blah blah.  It's how I got named, partially, after some duwop chick! The only name they had picked was my father's.  I was meant to be a junior.  Maybe the joke is really on me and the duwop song is just some sick cover story.  Living the life as a girl who would always get called by a boys name the first day of school.  Hilarious for substitute teachers too.  Unless you were me.

All of my friends had great names and the cute girls all had these names that matched their cuteness.   You know the ones.  You might have one.  You know the ones I mean.  They end in i, and y.  They can be shortened into amazing nicknames.  Names that are never, I mean never, mistaken for a boy name. I mean talk about gender identity issues before that was even a thing and I knew I was a girl! I wanted to be a girl.  And I wanted to be a super cool, adorably cute girl with some talent.  Like Chrissy who was fast. Great name. Very cute. Fast.  I mean she was even picked to be Daisy when we played Dukes of Hazzard at recess--- or so my memory says.

But alas, so many names and none of them mine.  I played with changing the spelling but that was too much work.  Plus my parents just weren't having that.

One of my favorite names, besides Lisa Marie of course, was Poppy.  Ok, not Poppy.  I just read that in a book but do not want to share the real name in case you happen to know one of my "Poppy" people (the names have been changed and so on).

The first Poppy I met was somewhere in my second elementary school. She had beautiful long chestnut hair.  Straight.  I always wanted straight hair.  And she liked me.  Not sure why but she did and we had sleepovers.  We played ouija boards which was totally cool.  No way would my mother let me have one of those! And we sang.  Man did we sing up a storm - in her basement - to Rick Springfield and Blonde ALBUMS- into hairbrushes.  I have no idea why were stopped being friends.  Did she move?  Was I a jerk?  Both completely possible.

The second Poppy I met on the first day of Pom Pom practice before my freshman year.  I was in awe!  I knew absolutely nobody and she just did not care.  She actually talked to me and she talked to me again at our first car wash!  Before I knew it, she invited me to hang out.  I hadn't even tried and I had a friend who turned into a best friend! I thought she, her parents, and her life were insanely amazing!  

I loved staying at her place over the years and could be open and honest with her where I had hidden the real me so many times from friends in the past.  Maybe it was the whole boy name thing- ha- no really- it was just how I grew up.  There was a time that I even wished her mom was mine.  Yes, a shitty thing to say.  But seriously.  My folks decided to move over a thousand miles away, my sophomore year, just as my life was perfect.  Well perfect for a 15 year old.  

This was when long distance calls were uber expensive. So strike that as being an easily obtainable option. Snail mail was the only mail so the news was weeks old by the time it was received. And I know exactly when we stopped being friends.  Not one of my finer moments in my life.  I have had more than a few. Can you say lashing out at people you loved because of your own pain? Yeah not pretty. 

The third Poppy blessed me junior year at that new high school. Can you say beautiful inside and out? She was a school photographer.  I remember getting to go on the field at our football games with her, which was AMAZING.  I thought it was the coolest.  We got so close to the game, the local reporters, closer than the cheerleaders, and got to see our boyfriends, who were best friends, play every play up close and personal.  Her favorite icon at that time was Marilyn Monroe, before it was cool and we would sing at the top of our lungs with the windows rolled down to The Outfield.  

Then we graduated. And I never kept in touch like I said I would.  I was embarrassed that I didn't follow my path- like everyone really does what they said they would after graduation.  I was FAR off my path. Totally me- again.  But then I saw her at a reunion. And we have caught up on social media.  She is still stunning and Facebook fabulous.  I'm telling you.  It is part of the name!

My fourth Poppy, who might very well be the second or third.  I mean we grew up in a small town and we knew each other in middle and  high school (That is high school number 1).  But it wasn't until recently that I feel like I can call her friend and not friend like I know them and we know all the same people and have pictures together from back then.  To be really honest, there are many many things from those years that I have blocked from my memory so I could be way off base, but that is another story. Regardless, this Poppy is pretty damn fearless and yes beautiful.  I mean, come on, she is a Poppy!  

And I really screwed up that one too. Ever go out and have said couple drinks, or possibly more, and do something completely stupid?  Ever then stand your ground on said stupid thing- for absolutely no reason but it made complete sense in your head at the time?  No?  Well, don't.  It will not end well.  

Now Poppy, all of them, are not the only girls and women who I have often thought wow and confession?  Yes, deadly sin, envied at one point or many.  #1- Spirit of unbridled freedom #2- Self confidence, tell-it-like-she-saw-it even if people thought she was a bitch (HUGE in high school) with an amazing family who treated me with respect and love. #3- Come on! Beautiful, cool, classy, photographer who was friends with every "group on the patio" at a huge, scary school willing to be MY friend. And #4 Beautiful, funny, extremely outgoing and well-loved plus a kick-ass mom.

But I realized, they were not the only women that I wished I was more like throughout the five decades of my life.  Sadly, I think some of you may have had this. Or, maybe not.  But I have.  The bagage and the self-talk that brought me to those ideas, visions, and sometimes misconceptions of what I wished my life, body, family could be actually robbed me of the greatness of those things that I did have.  They kept me in an abusive relationship- well ok- more than one.  They led me to do and say things I knew I did not want to but did anyway. And I own that.  I own that as "insert name" that is not a boy name.  

All of those things make me the me that I am.  They make me the me that they people who I dearly love the most love me back, and yes, sometimes make them a little nuts.  But that me, that name, that is what I should have coveted and envied for so many decades. Why?  Because somewhere, at some time, there is someone, who wanted my name, my figure, my life.  Maybe they believed the facade that played out in public rather than the reality behind closed doors. They might have thought how awesome to have a mother who would do x,y, or z.

And you know what?  Maybe not.  Maybe nobody, anywhere, ever has wanted my name or my life.  But for the very first decade of my life, I do.

I really like my name, the way that is spelled.  I love the overplayed joke that my uncle uses, still today, when he introduces me to people- even though I keep that secret.  I love that now famous comedy skit  where the substitute says my name wrong ("Substitute Teacher. 17 Oct 2012).  I love my friends, my family, and what happens in public and behind closed doors (mostly when I let it just be and not be that old me- but I love her too now). 

I love my many nicknames and I wish I could still hear my father call me the one he gave me so long ago.  And believe it or not actually, I love my body with all of its "faults" and ailments. 

I wish I had started loving that girl a long, long time ago!  But.  It is never too late until it is over.  So I will love me for now. I will love me from back then. An I will love me until death due us part.

Poppy Updates:

I have no idea what became of Poppy 1.  I honestly hope she found her way to become an outstanding female rocker and I am just unaware because her stage name and the beauty she grew into has been unrecognizable to me.  I hopes she has Grammy's and stars on sidewalks and is retired in some luxurious home outside of Port Charles where she gets regular "work" done at General Hospital from the sexy Dr. Noah Drake- swoon! 

Poppy 2 has had a pretty awesome life from what I know and continue to read. Luckily, the world is very small.  I got to reconnect with this Poppy and it was absolutely wonderful. She ended up working with my current BFF on the other side of the country and ironically I figured it out from a Facebook post (The same way I have reconnected with many of my favorites from long ago). While I had changed so much, molded by the life I had lived, I felt like she was exactly the same person I used to eat gummy bears with after a day at the mall. I wonder if in a way, she may have thought the same of me.  I kind of hope so.  I wanted her to remember the me before I was an ass.

As for Poppy 3?  I saw her at our 10 year reunion. I was preggers with my first and married to that same football player from our days of her taking photos for our school.  She was no longer with her football player and over the years we have caught up on social media.  She is still stunning and Facebook fabulous.  I'm telling you, no joke. Fashion Week, charity events, travel, and just being Poppy at home with her hubs and her frenchies. It is part of the name!

And last but not least, Poppy #4 (or 2 or 3 depending on when we really met).  Luckily, I did not ruin that forever for me (and my hubby- not the football player above. I have moved on.). We have found our way, and she let me do so.  I can honestly say let, and for that I am most thankful.  Sometimes people act and do not realize how their actions might impact, hurt someone...even though they really should have known and not have had posted while drinking (Thank goodness we did not have social media in my younger years!). Not only do I love her name -I mean it's "Poppy" - but I love her for the powerful, resilient woman that she is.  And also, she is my friend, not just a friend I know. Someone I enjoy and respect.

All the other Poppy's in my life.  There have been many.  I even pretended to be a "Poppy" with my girlfriend Sue one night during an out of town conference...or was she "Poppy?"  It was a great night of L-R-C and surfing on luggage carts.  Possibly some poor decisions that I have grown to now love, including luggage cart surfing, as well as the things that I have learned from all of the Poppy's in my life...and all of you amazing women I have known and have yet to meet.

Citations:

“Substitute Teacher.” YouTube, Comedy Central, 17 Oct. 2012, https://youtu.be/Dd7FixvoKBw. Accessed 26 July 2023.