My parents painstakingly combed through lists upon lists of names and finally settled on the one they would ultimately give me. And then every asshole with a mouth thinks it's alright to rename me something else.
My name is Hilary. It is not Hil, Hils, Hily...
Hilary.
I'm sorry if three syllables is too cumbersome, but it is my name and that's what I prefer to be called.
There are exceptions, of course.
- My parents can call me whatever they want; they named me, they can rename me if they would like.
- My boyfriend, because I find everything he does adorable.
- Small children, because their little mouths can't form the sounds that make my name.
I'd rather be called something completely wrong than be called a shortened version of Hilary.
Amen.
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