Twitward Grumpypants

When it comes to nicknames, I think I can give pretty much everyone a run for their money. Over the years, I have a amassed an impressive collection of nicknames, some funny, some sad, and some downright strange. To be honest, many, far too many of my nicknames are the result of my, well, lack of popularity in school. For many years, I could not stand nicknames, and not only shied away from using them, but expressly forbade anyone from even shortening my name. Well, having recently dubbed a co-worker “Twitward Grumpypants” in honor of Spongebob Squarepants, I think I can easily conclude that this is another childhood trauma I have conquered.

It really started with my family. My mom had the weirdest nicknames for me, such as “kaatje mossel”, and “krullebol”, even though I have always had the straightest hair in the world. My brother has recently taken to calling me “moppentrommel”, and when he’s being particularly goofy, “mama lou”. Now granted, this is the same man who calls his dad "Pino", but still.

Admittedly, some of my nicknames in school were interesting to say the least. And I have to say that my American and other non-Dutch peers were always a little more creative than my Dutch classmates. When I was in elementary school and wore glasses, a few mean little Dutch girls used to call me “brillejood” or “brillekoker”. Then when we moved to France, I got called “Duckie”, because I moved my feet like a duck (think Charlie Chaplin). I still do, and although no one has called me Duckie in years, my husband did just the other day point out that the way I put my feet down is the reason I overpronate when I run. In the US, my track coach called me “cloggy”, and through a long convoluted narrative involving a sweater with a thumbtack on it, I also earned to nickname “punaise”. Interestingly, that the was name I thought of when creating this blog, hence the “thumbtack” reference. However, those were some of the nicer nicknames, and I was also known as “boring” (in high school, adjectives can become nouns), “fayotte” (French for teacher’s pet), “moron”, and the ever-popular “loser”, as well as some other extremely inappropriate names I really cannot repeat here.

So for the few years following high school graduation, I was adamant about what people called me. I was Judith. Period. No Judy, Juut, or Ju, nothing of the kind. But of course, time wore away at my resolve. It started when a friend saw my brown suede jacket and decided it make me look like a “magnum ijsje met nootjes”, and my new nick (magnum ijsje) was born. Then I somehow became “jujubean” to my roommates, and my Korean roommate decided to call me “Sue-min”, because “it sounded cute and little, just like you”. After that there was simply no stopping the tide. Co-workers in Holland started to call me “tulpenstruik” (tulip bush) in reference to my last name, a week at a dude ranch earned me the name “Tinkerbell”, a nickname that was so quickly adopted by everyone, that new guests assumes “Tink” was my real name, and I now have an impressive array of Tinkerbell memorabilia. A friend in Wales started to call me “karatechicka”, and my friend Summer will call me “Princess”, especially in times of distress. Getting married also added a whole host of nicknames to my repertoire. Of course, there is the standard “honey” and “sweetie”, but my husband also got creative on me. He will call me “Mrs. Monk” when I over-worry, and “freak” when I’m being adorably weird. I'm sure my students have nicknames for me too, although they have yet to admit to that (to me anyway). Although last week, one student did have the courage to go up to a co-worker and ask where "Dr. Big-booty-Judy" was. Hmm. After my co-worker chewed her out, I told her she was lucky I wasn't around to hear that in person. I mean, I'm as cool and hip as the next person (and am ware of my booty thank you very much), but even cool and hip people have to draw the line somewhere.

So anyway, I think I’m OK with the nickname-thing now. I no longer flinch when people serenade me with “Hey Jude”, and don’t even raise an eyebrow when someone calls me a freak. That’s just my badge of honor. What’s yours?