I’ve always liked my nickname. It’s mine, after all. It’s been stitched onto every page of my life—class rosters, love letters, legal briefs, and latte orders (with varying success). But if you handed me a golden pen and said, “Change it. Just for fun,” I wouldn’t even hesitate.
Call me Deirdre.
There’s something hauntingly chic about it, isn’t there? Deirdre sounds like she keeps her secrets in satin-lined boxes. She probably wears vintage perfume, sends handwritten notes, and has a passport full of stamps and scandal. In other words—she’s that girl.
I used to daydream about being Deirdre when I was younger. Probably around the same time I believed I’d grow up to be a mix of Madonna, Matlock, and Morticia Addams. While other kids wanted to be astronauts or zookeepers, I was in the mirror naming myself things that sounded dramatic and doomed. Deirdre. Delphine. Veronica. (Doris never even stood a chance.)
But here’s the grown-up truth no one tells you: reinventing yourself doesn’t require a courtroom petition or a new monogram. You can be Deirdre in energy alone. Reinvention is an inside job, darling. Sometimes it starts with a new lipstick. Sometimes with a new boundary. And sometimes… with a name only you answer to in your head.
So maybe today I’m Deirdre. Tomorrow I might be Daphne. But always, I’m me—the version of myself I’m building on purpose.
Now tell me—if you could rename yourself, what would it be? Drop it in the comments and let’s build the most fabulous imaginary friend group the internet’s ever seen.
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