By any other name

I'm getting married in under a month. 3 weeks and 3 days, if you want to get precise. 576 hours if you want to get really, really precise. I could count the minutes for you, but I'm not gonna. Sorry. So I should be excited, right? And I am. I'm excited about the whole being married thing--you know, the committing to share your life with someone you love and trust and respect, the having someone who is legally obligated to put up with you when you lose your shit? Yeah, super excited about that because the losing of the shit is a daily occurrence around here, figuratively speaking.

Except. There's the whole changing of the name extravaganza. And that, I'm not so happy about. Not because I have some deep connection to my existing last name--it's not a family name that stretches centuries into the past, it's not aesthetically all that pleasing, hell, it's not even on my birth certificate. So really, the changing of the name shouldn't even be on the list of Things To Freak Out About At 12:54 am. And yet.

Because no matter how many times I tell myself that a name is just a name, that changing it won't change me, I cannot help feeling that I'm about to lose myself. That somehow, I'll sign a piece of paper and cease to exist. Yes, I hear how ridiculous the thought is. Yes, I understand that in this day and age, it would be entirely appropriate for me to keep my name. Yes, I know that people get married every day and live to tell the tale. And yet.

And for purely practical reasons, of course, I know exactly which choice I'll make, because at the end of the day, when the freaking out has come to an end, I am actually somewhat capable of making practical decisions. It's just that the thought that I would be giving up the only identity I've ever held never quite made it past all the fuss and fluster of the nightmare that we affectionately call The Wedding.

And furthermore, if I am giving up my identity, shouldn't it be for a really cool reason? Like joining the CIA? Or becoming disillusioned with life and going to live on an abandoned bus in Alaska? Or witnessing a gruesome mob murder and joining the witness protection program? Maybe instead of sitting here and whining about the name thing, I should be looking up mob bosses in the yellow pages.