Its Not Megan, Its Meg

Care-free, firm, yet forgiving”; all things which not only define my name, but me too. I think that my parents chose my name well because all of the things that characterize what it means, also apply to my personality. Its very simple, yet elegant. No one ever miss-spells it, and I think  that also describes me. People have a very easy time relating to me and understanding me.

When I close my eyes and imagine what my name means and describes, I see a little lily flower in the middle of a huge field surrounded with other longer daisies surrounding me. It is short and simple and fun to write. I have a simple but fun personality. The name Meg is almost always used as a nick-name. But its my real name, on my birth certificate. My name though fitting, is also very ironic in some ways, because it is very short. The reason its so ironic is that although my name is very small, I am not.

The name Meg means keen, intellectual, and a brilliant conversationalist. It also, most commonly is found to mean means pearl and jewel. I find the term pearl adds to the name Meg, that like pearls that grow in the ocean, the name bearer is special, rare, hard to find, and most importantly, one of a kind. Pearls signify preciousness, not only because of their value to people for jewelry, but also because of how tightly the oyster holds onto them. Finding a pearl oyster is discovering a rare and valuable gem. They find the thick shell and have to open it up to find such a beautiful object that is so valuable.

My name is the number three and I see Meg as the color light pink. Its soft and plain, yet original and uncommon. I think its fitting because it also seems to describe some things I am; gentle, kind, and  always ready and willing to help. The color just adds to that.

When I was in my mother’s tummy she always called me Meg. She didn’t really know her reasoning behind it. All she knew was that she really liked it. She always referred to me as Meg and would talk and sing to me and call me Meg. She also knew she didn’t want to change it when I was finally born. My father was partial to the name Alice. Alice I don’t like. I think it’s boring, dull, and doesn’t have a personality. I suppose he couldn’t help it though, he is after all British. It was also my father’s favorite cousin’s name, but I am happy that my parents didn’t name me that instead of  Meg. Meg suits me just fine.

When I was a little girl I hated my name because people always thought that I was just a stupid little girl and that I didn’t know my real name. That I was fussy and too set on my ways and had come up with the name I wanted to be called and didn’t want to be referred to by my real name.

“Whats your name?” one of my parents friends would ask.

 “My name is Meg,” I would say back nicely.

“Really! Your name is Meg? Are you sure your name isn’t short for anything? Is your name Margaret or Megan?”

“NO! My name is Meg. That’s my real name thank you very much!” I would exclaim back and then think to myself. I know my name, and isn’t it obvious to everyone else? It fits me so well.

            I am happy that I was named Meg. Being that my name is so short people call me by longer nicknames like Meglet, Megster, Meg-o-eggo-wafflecakes, or anything that they can think of. It is sometimes nice because I can experience what it is like to have a long name. My name is me and nothing can change what it truly is and who I truly am, so get it straight, its Meg!!