What's in a name...

So, as you can see, I've started using my real last name. I don't know how I feel about this. On one hand, I like that I am if only because I know of no one else with this last name. I'm proud of the name. I'm the last, there'll be no more. My wife is through with that phase in her life, and I don't think I'll be getting pregnant anytime soon! ...But then, using this name, reminds me of all of the hurt I felt because my name WAS different. I wasn't a Smith or a Jones or Bates. (There were a lot of Bates in my school) My name was different. I was different. I was treated different than the rest of 'the boys'. I didn't know why, I just was. And I wasn't proud of my family either. We kept to ourselves. My grandfather was so hot headed (German) that he would fight with everyone. If something didn't go his way, he'd go off. It embarrassed me. My father? Well, he was non existent. He was there, but never said a thing until he was mad. Then whack, on the side of my head. Bad thoughts come to mind seeing my last name. ...But then there is my marriage license, and Patty Lou. We will be together forever, and I know she wants me to keep my last name. She's actually hasn't said one way or the other about me maybe changing my first name, but I think I seen an 'uh oh' on her face when I mentioned it. So that's still a question. I really didn't think nothing about my last name until I saw that that was how my niece had me listed when she emailed me. It struck me funny seeing it, don't know why.
So, mixed emotions. Maybe I should go with only one name, like Cher, or Madonna. After all, 'Just Stephanie' is what I'd tell people when they wanted to know my last name at the bar. They always thought I was a drag queen, and they have last names. Nope, I just dressed like one back then!
Ok, maybe some more thought on this later. I'm noddin' out!

Stephanie