This post is part of a series about my elementary school experiences. Please click here for the full series.
Did you ever have a nickname you hated as a child? If not, consider yourself lucky. The problem with childhood nicknames is that, even if you hate it, adults who thinks the nickname is cute will still call you by it.
This was my cross to bear from my wee toddler days until I took a stand around age 5 and said that I would not tolerate said nickname any longer!
What as that nickname, you ask?
No, not Pumpkin. “Pumpkin” includes the “ump” sound — no, no. This was straight up “Punkin.” I’m not sure if it’s because we lived in a rural area and that’s how people pronounced “pumpkin” or what. This is still part of the mystery.
Regardless, my closest family (especially my older half sister whose daughter is my age — long story) always referred to me as Punkin’ and I absolutely hated it.
I’m still not sure if this was a hatred that festered over time or if it popped up suddenly, but we went to visit my dad’s side of the family at some point and I decided that that was IT. I was going to tell those people once and for all.
Sure enough, my half sister greeted me as “Punkin” when we got there, so I geared up and told her how I felt:
“Stop calling me Punkin! My name is Cherie!”
I felt very brave and glad to get it off my chest.
But do you know what the adults did? DO YOU?
They fucking LAUGHED at me. Kids get no respect, I swear.
Here’s a photograph of me during the Punkin’ days:
I’m the ham with the open mouth. My niece is the stoic one.
Hey, also! I’m starting to post more on Snapchat. Follow me (stlkercherie) and I’ll follow you back!