Having an unusual name hasn't always been a blessing. In fact, I'm sure you can imagine the kinds of taunts I was on the losing end of as a kid - "Here, kitty kitty kitty," "Kitty Litter," (oh, and it didn't help that my last name began with an L, that one was practically presented on a silver platter) and most imaginative, "Meow Mix," for a start.
As if it wasn't enough to have a name so easily made fun of, my name's pretty complicated to explain, too. It probably wouldn't surprise you to learn that my first name isn't Kitty. But to learn that it's actually Mary might catch you off guard. Question: How do you get Kitty from Mary? Answer: you don't. You get it from my middle name, Katherine. But I was always "Kitty" from birth, never Mary, so explanation was (and is) often necessary.
Nowadays I don't give too much thought to my moniker. It doesn't strike me as unusual, it's a part of me, sort of like my hair or my hands, as I imagine most people's names are to them. Of course, it does still give me a certain amount of grief. For example: Trying to get my doctors to call me Kitty instead of Mary; or having the girl at the coffee shop write down KATIE, no matter how clearly I enunciate; or better yet, mail coming to KATTY, what is up with that one?
Every now and then, though, I hear my name with fresh ears, and I think, "Hey, that's a pretty cool name!" If you didn't guess, I just had one of thost moments today. So I'd like to send props out to my parents for having the chutzpah to call me something out of the ordinary. It hasn't always been fun, but it's always made me feel like an original.