When I was a little kid I HATED to say my name out loud!  I hated it bad. Every time I had to stand in front of a group to introduce myself, I’d cringe and then spit it out as if I was coughing the remnants of a plague. The taste it left in my mouth was rancid.

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Looking back now, I don’t even know why I carried such a distain for my name. It really isn’t even that bad. It’s actually kind of a cute little four letter piece.  Perhaps it was the way I said it, or even the way some people repeated me like they didn’t hear me right. It could even be the way it was so often misspelled that caused me such unnecessary irritation. Sometimes people would even ask me if it was short for something. As if I’d really be giving them a nickname, who does that? That pissed me off every time. Most likely the feeling rooted from the fact that my name is in fact unique and I was fairly shy.

As I grew into adolescence, I  was just as confused about who and what I wanted to be as the next eager young soul approaching adulthood.  I wanted to keep my individuality, yet I still wanted to blend. I was finding myself  No longer was I shy, but quite the opposite.  I flipped a switch in my teen years and transformed into utterly obnoxious. BUT of course I still absolutely disliked my name.

In my twenties I was comfortable with my name, but I didn’t love it, not yet. My maiden was Farley. Something about it screamed average, so naturally I was okay with it.  What’s funny though, is that by this point in my life I was finally comfortable with myself in general.  I was finding myself as a human. I’d formed an opinion of my own. Again, not completely out of the ordinary for that age. When it came to my name I didn’t mind hearing it out loud, or even saying it for that matter. I’d transformed into a confident young soul, despite my odd discomfort in a name. At 24 I married an Oviatt, changing my name into something even more unique.

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My husband and I joke about it once in a while – saying that people who don’t know me probably take one look at my name and assume that I’m either a Slavic stripper or a dirty politician LOL. As an Author, the first time I saw my name slapped on a book cover, I just kind of shook my head and giggled it off. Aww lord, I thought, here we go.

Now, I’m 31 years old, and over the course of the last year I have developed a whole new opinion of my name!!  I’m happy to say that I absolutely LOVE it!!! If names were actually physical objects I’d kiss and hug mine every single day of my life. Here’s why:

ITS MINE!!!

My name is absolutely my own. There is no other human being stamped with the same mark as Didi Oviatt!

Didi is a beautiful name that has a sort of femininity about.  It’s pretty, it’s simple, its unique – in other words my name carries many of the same characteristics that I myself carry.  Therefore my name actually fits me!  Exciting right?!

Also, when it comes to being a writer, it’s imperative that I sand out.  My name is my brand.  It’s important for your brand to be unique and easily remembered. I’m so grateful that my parents gave me the gift of an especially unique name for this very reason.  I’m also grateful that the love of my life was able to compliment my already special name with an exceptional last name to follow it! My name is my own, it’s a blessing, and I LOVE it!!

AND as you can see from the book cover below, it actually DOES look good on print!  No I’m not a stripper or a politician.  I am a writer named DIDI OVIATT and I love that about myself!

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