What's In A Name?
I was eating with Indy and he asked me something that he had apparently been wondering about: Is my name really Tina or is it a nickname for Christina or something? Believe it or not, my real name is Tina. It’s not a nickname for Christina. And as far as I know, I’ve never heard of another person who’s name is Tina (and just so you know, Tina Fey’s real name is Elizabeth Stamatina Fey so she doesn’t count).
I remember my first day of preschool when the teacher asked me my name and I said it was Tina and she kept getting mad because she thought I wasn’t using my real name. The same thing happened on my first day of kindergarten and high school. It still happens when I have to sign things. “You have to use your real name when you sign for this. You can’t use your nickname.” When are people going to learn that my mother was still drugged out from the pain meds she had for labor when she named me? No one could talk her out of naming me Tina even though she had been passionate about naming me Christina the whole time she was pregnant with me. It wasn’t until I was ten that she finally admitted she had no recollection about when she decided to name me Tina. Thanks mom, my name is a product of a delusional moment.
Once I explained all this to Indy, I asked him why this had crossed his mind at such a random moment. It was because we had just watched the Rock of Love 2 reunion and when he saw Inna, he started wondering if Tina was just a nickname that I used on a regular basis.
After he left, I started remembering my family and how the nickname they had given me slowly evolved throughout the years. It all stated with “Tina Babe”. My parents started calling me that from the moment they brought me home, and everyone else called me that too. Then, as I started to grow, everyone started noticing something. My beach blonde hair was not getting darker like my siblings’ hair had, and I wasn’t as big as I should’ve been for my age. Just so you get an idea of how small I was when I was little, I’m currently only 4 feet and 9 inches (very tall right).
On my fourth birthday (I remember that day very clearly because it was the first time in my short life that I had felt completely humiliated), my crazy uncle got drunk and couldn’t remember my name. What did he keep calling me that day? Tinker Bell. He had said it, the thing that everyone thought but didn’t have the guts to say it in case my parents got offended. The moment he said it for the first time, the room went quiet. I remember seeing everyone with their mouths open and their eyes practically popping out of their heads. Was it because they were shocked that he was calling me over like a little dog, “come here Tinker Bell”, or was it because they were jealous that they weren’t able to call me that first. Knowing my family, they were jealous.
I stood there with the Barbie I had just unwrapped and looked at my mom because I was confused. The whole room looked at her too. They were waiting for her approval or denial of the nickname. I was hoping my mom would get mad because I wasn’t too fond of Tinker Bell and I didn’t want to be associated with a little pixie fairy who was infatuated with Peter Pan (that guy is ugly as fuck). After a moment of complete awkward silence, my mother bust into laughter and said, “oh my God, she really does look like Tinker Bell”. She had approved.
From then on, everyone started calling me Tinker Bell (especially after my mother thought it would be cute if she dressed me up as Tinker Bell). Everyone, that is, except my siblings. They thought it was stupid and refused to call me that. It wasn’t until I was five that they adopted the name. I went to see my oldest brother in his room and found him with a bag with white powder inside. He tried to hide it the moment I opened the door. When I asked what it was and why he was trying to hide it, his friend said “Tink, it’s fairy dust”. My brother started laughing, but the joke was on him. When they left, I found the “fairy dust” and sprinkled it all over his room so he could have good luck on his finals. After that, my siblings called me Tinker Bell every chance they could so they could laugh their asses off.
As I got older, they started getting very cruel and made me do everything. I had to do all of my chores plus everyone else’s. They bossed me around every chance they could. I think my sister was watching Cinderella one day and though “hey, if I had a bell, I could ring for Tina whenever I needed her to do something”. And ring she did. She even started yelling out “Tinker Bella!!!” (a combination of Tinker Bell and Cinderella) every time I didn’t run to her needs (If you’ve ever watched Cinderella then you’re probably familiar with that horrible, annoying, shouting way her sisters called for her). My siblings thought it was genius and immediately started doing the same. “Tinker Bella!!!” The stupidest name I’ve ever heard, but it still had an effect on me. Luckily, my sibling were the only one’s that called me that.
I remember my first day of preschool when the teacher asked me my name and I said it was Tina and she kept getting mad because she thought I wasn’t using my real name. The same thing happened on my first day of kindergarten and high school. It still happens when I have to sign things. “You have to use your real name when you sign for this. You can’t use your nickname.” When are people going to learn that my mother was still drugged out from the pain meds she had for labor when she named me? No one could talk her out of naming me Tina even though she had been passionate about naming me Christina the whole time she was pregnant with me. It wasn’t until I was ten that she finally admitted she had no recollection about when she decided to name me Tina. Thanks mom, my name is a product of a delusional moment.
Once I explained all this to Indy, I asked him why this had crossed his mind at such a random moment. It was because we had just watched the Rock of Love 2 reunion and when he saw Inna, he started wondering if Tina was just a nickname that I used on a regular basis.
After he left, I started remembering my family and how the nickname they had given me slowly evolved throughout the years. It all stated with “Tina Babe”. My parents started calling me that from the moment they brought me home, and everyone else called me that too. Then, as I started to grow, everyone started noticing something. My beach blonde hair was not getting darker like my siblings’ hair had, and I wasn’t as big as I should’ve been for my age. Just so you get an idea of how small I was when I was little, I’m currently only 4 feet and 9 inches (very tall right).
On my fourth birthday (I remember that day very clearly because it was the first time in my short life that I had felt completely humiliated), my crazy uncle got drunk and couldn’t remember my name. What did he keep calling me that day? Tinker Bell. He had said it, the thing that everyone thought but didn’t have the guts to say it in case my parents got offended. The moment he said it for the first time, the room went quiet. I remember seeing everyone with their mouths open and their eyes practically popping out of their heads. Was it because they were shocked that he was calling me over like a little dog, “come here Tinker Bell”, or was it because they were jealous that they weren’t able to call me that first. Knowing my family, they were jealous.
I stood there with the Barbie I had just unwrapped and looked at my mom because I was confused. The whole room looked at her too. They were waiting for her approval or denial of the nickname. I was hoping my mom would get mad because I wasn’t too fond of Tinker Bell and I didn’t want to be associated with a little pixie fairy who was infatuated with Peter Pan (that guy is ugly as fuck). After a moment of complete awkward silence, my mother bust into laughter and said, “oh my God, she really does look like Tinker Bell”. She had approved.
From then on, everyone started calling me Tinker Bell (especially after my mother thought it would be cute if she dressed me up as Tinker Bell). Everyone, that is, except my siblings. They thought it was stupid and refused to call me that. It wasn’t until I was five that they adopted the name. I went to see my oldest brother in his room and found him with a bag with white powder inside. He tried to hide it the moment I opened the door. When I asked what it was and why he was trying to hide it, his friend said “Tink, it’s fairy dust”. My brother started laughing, but the joke was on him. When they left, I found the “fairy dust” and sprinkled it all over his room so he could have good luck on his finals. After that, my siblings called me Tinker Bell every chance they could so they could laugh their asses off.
As I got older, they started getting very cruel and made me do everything. I had to do all of my chores plus everyone else’s. They bossed me around every chance they could. I think my sister was watching Cinderella one day and though “hey, if I had a bell, I could ring for Tina whenever I needed her to do something”. And ring she did. She even started yelling out “Tinker Bella!!!” (a combination of Tinker Bell and Cinderella) every time I didn’t run to her needs (If you’ve ever watched Cinderella then you’re probably familiar with that horrible, annoying, shouting way her sisters called for her). My siblings thought it was genius and immediately started doing the same. “Tinker Bella!!!” The stupidest name I’ve ever heard, but it still had an effect on me. Luckily, my sibling were the only one’s that called me that.
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Fleur on
My full name is ChyAnna-Mychelle, pronounced "shy-Ann-ah, my-shell." I rarely tell anyone my full name, and I go by Chy, pronounced 'shy,' for short. Needless to say, everyone thinks it's a nickname, wants to know what my real name is and where/how I got it. It's annoying, but I'm extremely proud of my name and defensive. To the point that I get enraged when people mispronounce it. And I make them repeat it till they get it right.
I hear a lot of "Too shy, shy, hush hush, eye to eye." and "Are you shy, Chy?" Every lame line ever. And my Ma nicknamed me Chy-Chy, great. To this day, the only people I allow to say it are my dad, Ma and Step-Ma. No one else. My brother just calls me Punk or Stink. Better than Chy-Chy.
I hear a lot of "Too shy, shy, hush hush, eye to eye." and "Are you shy, Chy?" Every lame line ever. And my Ma nicknamed me Chy-Chy, great. To this day, the only people I allow to say it are my dad, Ma and Step-Ma. No one else. My brother just calls me Punk or Stink. Better than Chy-Chy.
