You have no idea how long it took me to feel comfortable being called Anne. I blame my parents. (Insert huge smiley face here). They named me Anne but called me Marcie. To be fair, my middle name is Marcel. After having gone by Marcie for years and then to be called Anne in seventh grade by my teachers was sooo frustrating. Being an immature 12 year old, I bordered on antagonistic with them. Rather than just say "here" I would glare at them. There was an issue of pride at stake. I'm not Anne, I'm Marcie.
The government knows me as Anne. So does the hospital and the LDS church. But up until last year my driver's license and all my credit cards said Marcie. Since my driver's license didn't match the county records, I couldn't vote at the primary election. New security rules and all. I jumped through a lot of hoops to change everything so I was "legal". So guess what happened at the November election? My driver's license finally said Anne, but the records there now said Marcie ??? I put up a big stink and they let me vote anyway.
The point I'm making is that I have finally reached my happy place. Its taken me almost 50 years but I'm happy that I'm an Anne. I still go by Marcie, but if you call me Anne, I'll answer you with a smile.
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