I was born with the name Christine. I’ve asked my parents numerous times over the years why they named me Christine, and I continuously forget the reasoning. I do like my name. However, I went by Christy from birth until I moved to Denver this past September. All of my friends from Oregon and California know me as Christy, and I saw Christine as a name as different as Rachel or Emily. I had other friends named Christine and never responded to it. However, as I grew older, I became seemingly irritated when I heard Christy over and over. I didn’t feel as if Christy fit me. I was in a local sorority in college, and as the new pledges are rushing/initiating into the sorority, they must call us by our full names. It was my first experience with Christine, and I was surprised by how much I liked it. I decided as a sophomore in college that I wanted to go by Christine, but I knew that “changing” my name in the middle of school would never take. One of the first things I did after being accepted to DU three years later was changing my name on facebook to state Christine. Silly as facebook may be, it was literally an uproar. Many of my friends were outraged that I “changed” my name and refused to call me Christine. but…Christine IS my name. In all, I want to be known to the world as Christine. If you know me as Christy, call me Christy. We must be good enough friends if we are still in contact that I don’t mind what you call me. Chris, Christy, tine, tiney, Christiney, whatever (just not Chrissy). Making the switch from Christy to Christine was not starting my life over, an identity crisis, or trying to grow up. It’s just getting back to my roots.