Recent events in my life have prompted me to reblog this post.
I would be interested in your thoughts and your own experiences.
Throughout our lives, our friends and acquaintances stick labels on us: nicknames.
Some we like, and some we don’t.
My own experience tells me that the cruellest, least wanted, nicknames are foisted upon us during our school days.
When I was an officer cadet at HMS Conway, a naval school in North Wales, I was called Dithers. I absolutely hated that! It was because I was in the habit of injecting nervous “Ums” and “Ers” into my speech. My shipmates were merciless in their teasing, even making out that I had a “King’s Speech” stutter. It was awful!
People who have known me more recently would be surprised. I am often told that I am a natural public speaker. I’ve had great feedback on the way that I spoke at the recent UK Southern African Culture Workshop in London. Click on the link to listen from minute 10:21…
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my nickname as a child was peaches, I’ve reclaimed it as a grandmother, as I love the name
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Lovely!
Thanks Peaches.
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I was ‘blueband’ or ‘margarine’ because of malla…BAND..
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The conversation reminded me of something that my Dad told me about his nickname when he was at school.
When asked if he was ready [for anything], we would proudly reply, “No. I’m Greeny!”
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In middle school I was named “scarecrow” (we lived in NYC). I got this name because of the way I dressed. I was very tall and skinny and wore dresses below my knees (other girls in minis). My hair was never cut and I wore it in a long braid, and wore glasses. ug
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