You know what? Mel's just fine.

My mom used to call me Milly. I've never heard anyone else get that out of "Melanie", but she loved it.

I did not.

I thought it was the worst. nickname. ever.

I was wrong. The worst one would come much later.

But in the meantime, my mom would stand at the front door and call, "Milly!" when she wanted me to come in, and wrote "Milly" on the chore charts. That everyone saw when they came over. Grr. I begged her not to do it, but she liked it and that's what she called me.

Fast forward like, twenty-ish years. Some friends and I are crammed together in a car, wailing along with the Steve Miller Band classic, "The Pompitous of Love." The line come up, "I really love your peaches, want to shake your tree", and my friend Jen asks, "What does that mean?" I don't know if she asked this because she was blonde or because she was sheltered, but the question cracked the rest of us up. When our friend Jaime could draw a breath she said, "Peaches are your boobs, Jen."

"Oh...! Wait. I don't have peaches. Jaime has peaches. I have melons."

More hysterical giggling, because we were all in our late twenties and very mature professionals.

"Wait, wait!" Jen gasps. "If I'm melons and you're peaches, then what's Melanie?"

Now, let me just interrupt to say that I am not...uh...I don't have big...um...

The boys in the 'hood growing up called me C.P., for Coastal Plains.

Jaime hollered, "I got it! Melanie's got kumquats!"

More hooting. "That's what we should call her! Kumquats!"

I sniff.

"Oh, does that bother you? How about if we call you Princess Kumquat?"

And my answer doesn't really matter because that's what they called me. That's how my name showed up in their cell phones, in emails, etc.

But at least the damage was somewhat contained to the our squished little posse in the car.

I thought.

Until I was walking out to my car in the staff parking lot of the middle school where I taught and Jen's mom, one of the PE teachers drove by. She slowed, rolled the window down on the BMW and called, "How's it going, Princess Kumquat?"

Three other teachers en route to their cars stopped, turned, and stared.

It's going great, Lorraine.

Just great.