Going back to preschool: Relearning your name and actually turning around when it’s called.

The first time someone called me “Mrs. H” after I was married was our reverend right before we kissed at the altar. I was beaming at the thought of a new me, a new us, and relished in the name the whole night.
The second time someone called me “Mrs. H” was at work, and I just kept walking because I had no idea who they were talking to.

Who was this Mrs. H person I was seeing signed at the end of my emails and how had she suddenly invaded my life? Wasn’t this one of the things I was most excited about after we said “I do”? Hadn’t I practiced the uncomfortable new signature over and over again until I perfected how to properly loop the end of the “H” seamlessly into the much more fluidly formed “a” that followed? How was I ever going to assume the role of this new woman?

Behold: the Monogram. Sure, the new name on your license might look funny and you swear the post man has the wrong address when you first look at your mail. But that dance floor gobo light looked perfect as your new initials glowed beneath your feet and the “H” rested elegantly draped in pearls atop your cake. There’s something so mystical about your new letters that you start to become obsessed with it. Obsessed to the point where you’re pining after-wedding projects adorning the capital H and accessorizing everything you own with your new identity. Like if you don’t decorate every corner of your life with these 3 letters, the new you will completely succumb to a major an identity crisis.

I was such a believer in the power of the monogram that I too accepted the path of a monogram worshiper. I created yarn “H” wreath projects which grace the door of our humble abode signifying to our visitors that Mr. and Mrs. H reside here (as if our friends already didn’t know who we were). For our first Christmas, our “H” ornament hung proudly from our Douglass Fir. Whenever I wear my recently ordered gorgeous gold monogrammed bracelet, my married girlfriends always seem to compliment it on its charm and beauty. I feel like a true wife when I bake in my monogrammed vintage apron (complements of Etsy!) Even my husband has asked me when our monogrammed wine cozy would be arriving!

Maybe it’s because of its diminutive fashion that makes the m

onogram easier to chew rather than consuming the whole new last name all at once. But the closer I surround myself with the little letters, the easier I’m finding it to assume ownership of them all!!

So how long did it take for you to feel comfortable with your new surname? Did you pay homage to the monogram gods as well?



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