Wednesday, August 08, 2007

H is for…

Chillin' in the 101 degree heat

…Huffar (that's me, well before I got married, though Mike has assured me I will always be 'Sarah Huffar' and friends still distinguish me that way as well).

It wasn't the easiest last name to grow up with. I wasn't teased a lot, but when I was it stung because it was accentuated my insecurities in my own physical fitness. Can you guess what I was called?

How about…

Huff and Puff
Huffer Puffer
and my personal favorite, Huff Puff and Blow Your House Down.

These names started before things like running the mile in gym class, so I like to think they weren't a double whammy of cruelty.

Mike still pulls these out when he feels like teasing.

I remember on those occasions when I did get teased, I would wish I had a different last name, and yearn for a time when I could change it.

But when the time came to actually change it, upon marriage, I hesitated a bit (I think it was my version of cold feet).

Besides the teasing, there is always the awful mispronunciation and always needing to correct people, especially awful in a roll call situation, when you don't want to have to correct the teacher/leader. Huff-far, Who-far, and variations so strange I don't even know how people came up with them. Always ended in the same response, "Actually we pronounce it Huff-er." Yes, we're practically Wisconsinites & Chicagoans and therefore we have both regions lazy speech patterns.

Despite all the anguish, I still love the shirt and wear it with pride everytime. Though it is really ragged and holey, I have had it since I was a senior in high school playing on the tennis team (it was the cool uniform shirt for when October rolled around, unlike the lame bumblebee striped polo that does not flatter any teenage girl, especially one in a white tennis skirt). I'm not sure how much longer it will last, but when it is unwearable, I know I'll have a tough time throwing it out.

Because it is me…

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