I had a very pleasant conversation yesterday with a woman also named Meg.
She started her life as Marguerite and I started mine as “Margaret”. We both ended up with “Meg” after a series of names that didn’t quite fit. Mine was “Margie” – with a soft ‘g’. It was delicate, and ladylike. And I had that name for more than 25 years. But I grew tired of people making faint attempts to pronounce it and landing on “Maggie” or “Margie” (with a hard ‘g’). Like a hair-netted matron being addressed by a butcher, or a sassy secretary with a swift comeback.
I never wanted to be a “Margaret”, although I didn’t mind “Peggy”. If I had a choice of a name it would be something sophisticated and “French”, I figured. I wish I’d known “Marguerite” was possible back then. It was, after all, French and I could be called “Daisy”. But I didn’t. I’d been given “Margaret” and of all the possible “Margaret” names, “Meg” was my favorite.
“Life will be perfect,” I thought,”if I just start telling people to call me “Meg””. After all, my sisters did already.
And life was good for a while. Giving my name on telephone calls was much simpler — no more “Maggie?” Just three little letters — “M E G”. My email address was shorter; my cousins, aunts and other family members jumped on board and I was newly christened “Meg”. As in, “is this “Meg”? when I answered the phone. “Meg” was preppy and smart and bestfriend material. “Meg” was competent and the one to turn to in an emergency.
And then.. disaster struck. “Megan” became a popular girl’s name. So, now I was sporty – a cheerleader; the head of the debate team. Unctuous.
And, who knew — Meg is presumed to be the nickname for “MEGAN”. But, if that’s the case, why are you calling me “Megan”
Now what’ll I do?
Time to evaluate my options:
Ignore anyone calling me Megan.
Ask people to call me by my pen name “CC DeLuc”.
Answer to anything.
Move to France and become “Daisy”.