When meeting someone I have developed the habit of introducing myself as Amanda. If it is a social setting rather than professional I’ll often add that I prefer being called Mandy or Foxy. Well that’s not really a nickname you say, which is true. I mean my last name is Fox so how much of a nickname is Foxy? I introduce myself as such as preemptive strike against my real nicknames coming out. Yes there are many and boy are they rough.

After taking a brief look at the type of nicknames I have been stuck with over the years you can get a pretty good idea of why I like many others try to choose their own nickname. Granted there are some people that try to choose a nickname to perhaps stroke their own ego or give an impression of themselves as something other than they are. There’s nothing wrong with that, hey if someone wanted me to call them “Queen Zusu Benevolent ruler of all hostile kittens” I would. I’d also suggest they check their meds. In any case on to a very personal example of why I chose (Unsuccessfully I might add) to create my own nickname.

As a youngster the tag of Manda-panda somehow got hung around my neck, probably by my dad. For all intents and purposes this wasn’t too bad until I hit my teens. That is when it became flat out embarrassing. The first traumatic instance was going to a school dance in eighth grade. I had done my best to be a sexy wanton thirteen year old Madonna clone. I was destined to break hearts and trail them behind me and my confidence was soaring. Then my dad dropped off myself and two girlfriends in front of the school. I exited the vehicle with my embarrassingly gaudy makeup, semi trashy outfit, and in all honesty gently stuffed bra. Only a few short steps from the door my dad called out “Be a good girl Manda-panda.” Suddenly I felt five again. The rest of the night my girlfriends giggled and began referring to me as Manda-panda. By Monday afternoon the whole school did as well. I tried to get everyone to call me “Foxy” which my mom was known by as our last name was Fox, but it was too late. For better or worse I was Manda-panda.

I’m sure you’re thinking that’s not so bad, it’s actually kinda cute. It gets worse, trust me on this. By the time high school rolled around I was running track and cross country. After one particularly brutal workout on a steamy August day I sat down on the pavement hoping to catch my breath. To clarify one thing I don’t “Glow” when I work out. I sweat profusely. So much so that I left an imprint of my behind on the pavement, when I stood up for some reason it drew several peoples attention. Someone remarked I sweat like a beast and for the next three years I was “Sweat beast.” This definitely was not too terribly feminine and in my mind evoked images of some drooling, snarling, overweight savage in a wife beater, not a cute, fit young lady. Suddenly Manda-panda seemed like a good alternative. I again urged my new classmates to call me Foxy, but kids are cruel and in all honesty I wasn’t really all that foxy.

Wait it doesn’t end there. At the tender age of 24 I was named employee of the quarter. Along with my extra three days vacation and five hundred dollar bonus, a brand new professional portrait of me was placed on the wall. Someone commented I looked shocked much like Bambi the deer caught in headlights. Someone then added I appeared bucktooth in the picture. Simple addition soon made me Bucktooth Bambi. Would this never end? I asked myself over and over why I always get the weird nicknames and not the cool one I tired to make catch on for almost a dozen years.

Years later there are still many people that remember those nicknames. At my high school reunion there were people calling me Sweat beast and Manda-panda just as much as my given name. Even now there are still times I run into old work friends that greet me by shouting “Hey Bucktooth Bambi!” regardless of where we are. Thankfully these occasions are becoming more and more rare. I never did get Foxy to stick but of all the weird things my daughter did without even asking for it. At least now the nickname that has been bestowed on me is one I really love, “Mom.” You can bet though when the time rolls around I won’t be grandma or nana unless Foxy follows it!