Like all new borns, I had no choice in being bestowed the name Allison. To the frustration of my parents, growing up, teachers, peers and now colleagues have found the three syllabic title far too long for their liking and have taken the liberty to refer to me as Ali, Ally, Ellie, Elly or Allie. Multiple permutations but you get the gist.
Year 1 uni and post-teenager-me decided to settle the confusion one and for all: Henceforth, I was Ehly. I’m not going to lie and say the name caught on like wildfire, heck, I soon grew tired of pretending to be hipster and spelling my name in a different light.
Fast forward to 2015. I’m thinking of a name for a new exciting venture. IamEhly, The A is cumbersome says the husband. IMEHLY. Aesthetically pleasing? Check. Short? Check. Risk of ridicule? High, but I’m nearly 30. Ridicule is not high on the list of priorities.
Critically, I like it. He likes it. And as it turns out, it was who I am all along.
Year 1 uni and post-teenager-me decided to settle the confusion one and for all: Henceforth, I was Ehly. I’m not going to lie and say the name caught on like wildfire, heck, I soon grew tired of pretending to be hipster and spelling my name in a different light.
Fast forward to 2015. I’m thinking of a name for a new exciting venture. IamEhly, The A is cumbersome says the husband. IMEHLY. Aesthetically pleasing? Check. Short? Check. Risk of ridicule? High, but I’m nearly 30. Ridicule is not high on the list of priorities.
Critically, I like it. He likes it. And as it turns out, it was who I am all along.