Baby Names
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My name, and what I did with it.
Melinda reminds me of an old name you might hear about back in the 40's and 50's. I like to think that people back then considered the Melindas of the world sophisticated and elegant, the Betty Davis of names. Growing up teachers and friends would often spell my name Malinda, or mix it up all together with similar, more popular names such as Melissa or Melody. I didn't care much, I hated my name anyway. I was named after my not-so-wonderful grandmother, who was in no shape or form elegant or sophisticated. Instead she was the 50-something year old woman who sat in the smoking garage sucking on Marlboro lights and gossiping about our neighbors. I use to wonder if you were named after someone, does that mean you're going to become like them too? I prayed not. Whenever I whined about my ugly name, my mother would comfort me and tell me I wasn't a Melinda at all, and that she had no choice but to follow my grandmother's wishes. She use to tell me that she wanted to name me Jewell, or maybe Jezebel. While I'm more than thrilled that didn't happen now, back when I was 12 I thought those names sounded so beautiful. I pictured floating in a beautiful skirt and mary janes, friends calling out my name, Jewell, we love you. I'd be the diamond of the school, sparkly, rich, and beautiful. But instead, I was just Melinda. Plain ol' name for a plain girl in overalls.
It wasn't until I turned 16 that I actually started to like my name. It was different than all of the Brittanys and Ashelys that I went to school with. People seemed to finally learn how to spell and say my name correctly, and sometimes they would actually compliment it. My grandmother started going by Linda to avoid confusion, and to say I was thrilled is an understatement. Linda fit her better, Melinda was much too nice for her anyway. Melinda also became a name that had thousands of oppurtunities for nicknames. Melly, Mel, Melness, all names that you could probably find in my old school notes passed around by my friends and I.
I'm twenty now, and I wouldn't ever change my name. Any part of it. While I hated it growing up, I think I finally grew into it. I don't consider myself a replica of my grandmother anymore. I made the name my own and oh, do I wear so much better.
Author: Melinda T.
