In 21 years of life, I have been called many names. I get it, Rahels are rare, Rachels are a dime a dozen. So day after day, people superimpose the letter “C” into my first name. There have been other more original variations:
- Rahul: an Indian gentleman from Bangalore
- Rachelle: doing the most
- Raul: your local Colombian coke dealer
- Ragu: pasta sauce. Seriously?
My favorite instance of mistaken identity happened in high school. On any given Sunday I was at church (Super Target) when a girl tapped me on the shoulder.
Girl: Excuse me…
Girl: Ummm they, like, spelled your name wrong on your sweatshirt. They, like, forgot the “C” in Rachel.
Me: Ummm, like, thanks.
Attacked, in my own place of worship. I wish God/Zeus/Allah/Vishnu had smited her on the spot. Lightning bolt to the face.
This is The Sweater:
*Le sigh* Honestly, it may have been easier if my parents had named me LaShawnda. I have a new-found respect and understanding for this song by The Ting Tings. Enjoy and laugh at my inner anguish. xoxo, Rahel (not Rachel)