Jenn M., 28:
I was born a Jennifer, but I rarely go by Jennifer anymore. I am
destined to be a Jenn with 2 N's. I have no aversion to the name
Jennifer, and at work many superiors refuse to call me by my nickname.
But anybody who has known me for longer than a day knows I prefer to go
by Jenn. Jenny makes me want to cry. There are 2 people in this world
who are allowed to call me by this abhorrent name; Grandma and my
niece Stacey.
I was born in 1981 in Oceanside, California. Mom didn't name me after
anybody famous, or after someone she once knew. She just liked the
name. My sister and brother have equally popular names (Michelle and
Mark). There were something like 15 Jennifer's in my graduating class,
and 5 other co-workers right now that share the same name. I find
myself turning my head to the sound of Jennifer a lot, and I find it
insanely entertaining when the Jennifer in my row, and the Jennifer
across the room do the same thing. We all smile accordingly,
appreciating the bond we share.
I don't remember disliking my name, just the fact that it is so
normal. I grew up being the oddball, the outcast, the child that
nobody understood. The art freak. The rebel. My name just didn't fit
my personality at all. But as the years went on, I became increasingly
more "normal" and I grew into my name. The fact that I'm a redhead has
been my only saving grace in this world of endless Jennifer's; it
helps keep me original and unique.
My goal of individuality aside, I love being a Jennifer. A Jenn. Never
a Jenny. And I have come to realize a name is just a name. I may have
one of the most common names in the country, but it doesn't make me common.
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