It’s always awkward when I introduce myself to someone new. “Hi, I’m…”.

I have about 2 seconds to decide which me you’ll be meeting. When I worked full time at a real job (unwad your panties stay at home mommies), it was easy, “I’m Kimberly”. Inevitably, people felt entitled to truncate that to “Kim”. You may as well call me Fred. It’s as much my name as Kim. People lack listening skills and basic courtesy.

In most situations these days (because I’m a stay at home mommy and I no longer have to convince strangers to buy what I’m selling to keep my job), I expose the real me and I answer, “I’m Kimby”. And confusion ensues… “huh?”

“Yes, Kimby. Short for Kimberly.”

I’m not giving you my full name: Kim Bee or Kim Bea or my rap name Kim B.

You may not call me Kim.

I didn’t say Kimmy.

I didn’t make this goofy name up and give it to myself. I’ve been Kimby since the day I was born. It’s become me, my brand and my identity. It’s part of what makes me unique; my name, my curly red hair and for better or worse, my spitfire personality.

Once in the 2nd grade, another Kimberly in the class tried to exchange her “Kim” for “Kimby”. I punched her. Trademark infringement.

Someone once described me as a firecracker. I had to clarify; the pretty ones in the sky or the kind you accidentally blow your hand off with? Follow along and let me know what you think.

xo, Kimby