Before Justin and I
started talking about getting married, I had always planned on keeping my last
name. I’m an independent, Aquarius woman! And I like having the same last name
as my Grandpa whom I clearly adore, along with my father and two brothers. I
mean, check out this Rosenthal crew:
But it’s important to my
man. In fact, he used to joke that he wasn’t going to propose to me unless I
agreed to take his last name. Justin can be very traditional. It’s cute. So I
conceded. Or at least I’m in the process.
Our marriage license lists
my new last name: Singer. I have a new social security card with the name
Amy Singer. And my new passport is in the mail.* I still have to get a new
driver’s license, and then a new e-mail address. (But FYI in a totally lovey
dovey and contradictory-to-everything-I’m-saying-here way I do confess I tried
to sign up for amysinger@gmail.com
like three years ago. It was already taken. This of course is the modern day
equivalent to scribbling AE + JB = LOVE in a notebook.)
Anyway, I digress. I’m
halfway there. And I’m in name change limbo. And it feels so weird. But
fortunately, it’s good weird. Like calling Justin “my husband” is still SO
weird, in the best possible way. I giggle every time. I’m not over it. And I’ll
never get over it. But perhaps I’ll get used to my new name.
AS
*Justin and I recently
decided to go to Tulum, Mexico for an upcoming trip in February. I hadn’t done
anything proactive to officially change my name yet, i.e. get a new SS card or
passport. I had been procrastinating. So Justin quite strategically booked my
flight under Amy Singer, so that I had to change my name in a timely
manner. And it clearly worked.
[Photo by Carlie Statsky]















