If you’ve been coming here for a while, you’ll recall that I posted here about how I have no interest in changing my name if I ever get married (seemingly unlikely, right?).
But then I read this article and learned more about the history of women from being discouraged from keeping their own names. I was outraged.
What would be great, in my opinion, is if the NY Times and other publications who announce marriages stopped assuming anyone would change his or names. Mention it if they do as the exception.
[This article came out about a week ago. I sat on this post for a few days, trying to calm down about the subject and word this post in a way that doesn’t offend friends who have chosen to change their names.]
Were you aware of state laws like this? Does this information change how you feel about the issue?
Staci and I met in new employee orientation. She was about to start work as a marketing assistant for the magazine. I would be the newest advertising sales assistant, joining a team of twelve. In the beginning, I envied Staci–the other women (and they were all women) in my position were a few years older than me and I found their existing friendships intimidating.
Plus I looked goofy like this:
Staci and I were the low women on the totem pole, just weeks removed from college graduation.
I go to a terrific physical therapy place in Brooklyn. They treated my little neck issue, and now they treat lingering issues from breaking my ankle.
My ankle PT is in a passive phase: I lie down on a treatment table and have heat packs applied, sometimes with stim. I lie down while my main therapist Matt manipulates my foot and ankle, and massages muscles and tendons. I lie down while having my ankle iced.
Matt and I talk about his new baby boy. I ask Jason about his salsa dancing adventures. Colin tells me about how he came to eat a largely vegan diet or about the matching tattoo he and his sister got after the sad death of her husband. Melvin Googles the weird fracture I suffered.
Tonight I was the last patient in the place, spending most of my time with Matt and Colin. When I got home, something made me Google Colin’s sister and the novel she had published last year.
I’ll never know why I didn’t go straight to Amazon, or why I didn’t just buy the book on my iPad. But instead, I found this article and video about love lost.
To be honest, I feel a little creepy posting this even though it’s a video that ran in the damn New York Times. It’s intensely personal, emotional and moving, to the extent that I feel like I’m prying almost.
But now that I have pried – or not – I hope you’ll watch the video so I’m not left here with my heart aching all by myself.
Outside, the city was burning and world financial markets were plummeting, but Ms. Ecclestone, who has long platinum locks and a Barbie doll figure, had work to do. Not only were there the dreaded seating arrangements to deal with (“All the politics, who’s going to sit next to who,” she said), but she was preparing for the introduction of her new handbag line, Stark, at New York Fashion Week.
“So it’s really manic right now,” she explained coolly.