For the first bit of my overshare, I would like to announce that I have monster cramps. They came on suddenly, just when I thought I might be two days late and have exciting Christmas news to share with my family. I actually got a bit emotional thinking about it last night, about how, if I were knocked up, my mom would get all misty-eyed around the Christmas tree, and that all the attention would be on me the news would make everyone so happy. Then, I watched a bit of that Barbara Walter's special on fascinating people, and saw a shot of Kate Gosselin's bare belly -- back when it contained six little people. I started retching a little.
(You see, I'm not trying to get pregant. I'm just not trying to not get pregnant.)
So. There is no bun in my oven. Perhaps my breadmaker's yeast does not rise. I do not know yet, nor am I devistated or concerned in the slightest. All I know is, I will never go the route of modern medicince in order to conceive. Kate Gosselin's belly pretty much affirmed that for me. If it happens, it happens. This month it didn't happen. Pass the hard liquor and the spiked eggnog. I'm only drinking for one this holiday season.
In other TMI news, I wanted to share a little bit about the Tidd in the mouthful that is Amber Leigh Tidd Murphy.
Tidd is, as you may have assumed, my maiden name. However, I wasn't born Amber Leigh Tidd. My parents divorced when I was a youngster, and my mom remarried. I agreed to take my new dad's last name before carefully weighing the ramifications of such an unusual surname.
Oh, how I envied the Smith's and the Johnson's and the Robertson's. In my Kentucky elementary school, I was the butt of every tittie joke ever written. Amber Titt. Amber Tittie. I was the president of the itty-bitty-titty committee. Once, a prank caller rang the house -- fairly late -- and my mom answered. I don't know where I was that night, but the next morning she told me, "Someone called for you. Something about a committee meeting?" I knew immediately what it was about. I was mortified.
If you called in to a popular radio station in the morning, the deejay, Peter B, would announce your friend's birthday. So, on March 2nd my eighth grade year, I tuned the radio while I applied my make-up and listened for my name. One of my gal pals had promised she would call and have ol' Peter B give me a shout out. He went down the list -- and there it was, and a happy 13th birthday to Amber Tidd, uh, haha. Even the deejay made fun of my last name. On my birthday. Sadspice.
You know when you introduce yourself? It's so easy for most people to do, to say, "Hello, there. I'm Mary Thomas." No, wasn't easy for me. Even after you spell it out , T - I - D - D... you must confirm, "Yes, that's two D's on the end, as in David." I spent most of my adolescence introducing myself by first name only. Why go there if I didn't have to?
My whole life, I thought I couldn't wait to get married and be rid of my last name. That all changed when it actually came time to drop it. It's official: I'm Amber Tidd Murphy. Poke fun of me all you want. In truth, in terms of childhood-trauma scars, the last name bullying was probably second to the jokes about the canyon between my two front teeth. (Picture, deadpan, "Do you shop at the GAP?")
Plus, I'm no longer the president of any committe. I now have really big boobies. T to the I to the double D.
(You see, I'm not trying to get pregant. I'm just not trying to not get pregnant.)
So. There is no bun in my oven. Perhaps my breadmaker's yeast does not rise. I do not know yet, nor am I devistated or concerned in the slightest. All I know is, I will never go the route of modern medicince in order to conceive. Kate Gosselin's belly pretty much affirmed that for me. If it happens, it happens. This month it didn't happen. Pass the hard liquor and the spiked eggnog. I'm only drinking for one this holiday season.
In other TMI news, I wanted to share a little bit about the Tidd in the mouthful that is Amber Leigh Tidd Murphy.
Tidd is, as you may have assumed, my maiden name. However, I wasn't born Amber Leigh Tidd. My parents divorced when I was a youngster, and my mom remarried. I agreed to take my new dad's last name before carefully weighing the ramifications of such an unusual surname.
Oh, how I envied the Smith's and the Johnson's and the Robertson's. In my Kentucky elementary school, I was the butt of every tittie joke ever written. Amber Titt. Amber Tittie. I was the president of the itty-bitty-titty committee. Once, a prank caller rang the house -- fairly late -- and my mom answered. I don't know where I was that night, but the next morning she told me, "Someone called for you. Something about a committee meeting?" I knew immediately what it was about. I was mortified.
If you called in to a popular radio station in the morning, the deejay, Peter B, would announce your friend's birthday. So, on March 2nd my eighth grade year, I tuned the radio while I applied my make-up and listened for my name. One of my gal pals had promised she would call and have ol' Peter B give me a shout out. He went down the list -- and there it was, and a happy 13th birthday to Amber Tidd, uh, haha. Even the deejay made fun of my last name. On my birthday. Sadspice.
You know when you introduce yourself? It's so easy for most people to do, to say, "Hello, there. I'm Mary Thomas." No, wasn't easy for me. Even after you spell it out , T - I - D - D... you must confirm, "Yes, that's two D's on the end, as in David." I spent most of my adolescence introducing myself by first name only. Why go there if I didn't have to?
My whole life, I thought I couldn't wait to get married and be rid of my last name. That all changed when it actually came time to drop it. It's official: I'm Amber Tidd Murphy. Poke fun of me all you want. In truth, in terms of childhood-trauma scars, the last name bullying was probably second to the jokes about the canyon between my two front teeth. (Picture, deadpan, "Do you shop at the GAP?")
Plus, I'm no longer the president of any committe. I now have really big boobies. T to the I to the double D.
(Visit Lilu at the homefront for all the TMI you can stomach...)
Comments
My last name is Jenks (really? No. I wouldn't have guessed! You hide it so well, sir).
So, yeah, I had plenty of grief growing up.
Never had a committee meeting, however.
I do have to give them props on the committee... that sounds like something that would still fly around here at my office.
And congratulations on your non-oven-bunning. Now, you get to get 20 kinds a shitfaced on new years, without feeling that next morning ultra sickness guilt.
I was pretty lucky about my name, but had plenty of other things for people to make fun of me about... eyepatch, anyone? Yeah.. childhood was awesome.
Get back over there and make those balls amber titt!
diaz: that joke was pretty obvious, wasn't it? :)
carissa: ahh, the eyepatch. you poor thing. i had kind of forgotten about that picture.
My maiden last name is Rodriguez. All I got was "you don't look mexican!". I had more trouble with my first name. No one could pronounce it right. Finally in high school I started a little spiel when introducing myself. "My name is Shandal, like chandelier, without the ier." Haha!
"T to the I to the double D." Love it!
We are in the middle of decorating a 3 foot Christmas tree for our multiple-branch holiday party tonight. There's a contest.
I'm making rubberband balls.
Oh, and while my last name is rough (Lips, was my nickname and for no good reason) I just couldn't take the Hubs name...I heard variations of Perv and Beaver that I just couldn't live with.
So now that your initials spell out "A.T.M." (and you work in a bank!!!) do people ever call you "Cash Machine"?
Ah, not trying to not get pregnant. It's so telling. You actually do want, yes. And you just now figured that out.
Love the committee meeting thing. That's hilarious. I was on that committee, too. But no longer. I got teased because my first name is Betina. You can just imagine the fun they had with that. Notice how I don't use that name?
Just be glad that our childhood years are over. Kids are sexting now, and then humiliating each other by forwarding that crap to everyone they know. Girls have committed suicide over it. When you hear stories like that it make you angry. These mean kids don't think about unintended consequences (like Columbine). Yes, most won't turn into members of the trenchcoat mafia, but there are some messed up kids out there, and being mean to them equals bad, bad things.
Wow, that was more of a downer than I wanted it to be. My daughter is being treated really bad in school right now, so mean kids tick me off!!!
LOL at the DD joke! And I could have been a member of your committee way back, too.
Trav: Yes, I love that my initials are now ATM. Actually, they are ALTM because the "Leigh" is in there, too. My business cards say Amber Tidd Murphy and several customers have noticed that my initials. One even asked, "Did you plan that?" Uh, I clearly did!
Betina! Do you want me to help kick the butts of your daughters mean classmates? I am just a plane ride away!
Pink Flip Flops: Oh. MY. GOD! I loved your drunken comment. That made my life complete.
Melane: IBTC foreva.
Lilu: You like my name? Thanks!