mandie

When I was a kid my Granny called me Mandi. It was - and is - on every birthday card and every Christmas gift, and to her will always be my name. I have never heard her call me Amanda. At the ripe age of five, I decided that this name did not fit me and proudly and defiantly stated that my name was Amanda, and Amanda I should be called. Obviously, Granny has never been deterred.

Within the past year, Mandi has made a comeback. After relaying the beloved nickname and accompanying story to my close circle of friends, I said goodbye to Amanda and embraced Mandi. To add to the ridiculousness, it is now spelled with an -ie, for an added touch of girliness, although not without my argument that if I were to be called this name it should at least be spelled with a -y. I lost. Mandie it is.

Now Mandie has taken on a personality of her own - she is my alter ego. Here are some things that Mandie does:

Talks to boys instead of running away from them.

Wears headbands and red patent leather heels.

Loves Christmas, including endless hours of Christmas music and cheesy movies.

Loves babies and dogs and actually wants both.

Is outgoing and witty.

Does craft projects, and may even scrapbook one day.

Has social gatherings at her house and loves it, and doesn't even get angry when a nativity sheep gets broken during an impromptu yoga session (really - not even a little).

Some of these things really are becoming more of my personality, which is mostly due to a little something we call "medication." Mandie still isn't very good at talking to boys, but she's getting braver. But she's really loving those headbands and heels. I like her ... I think I'll let her stay.