I vowed to myself and my new husband that I would not get upset nor correct anyone who incorrectly referred to me by his last name. No, if someone called me Sarah Jones I wouldn't say anything unless it was necessary. It doesn't really bother me, it doesn't happen often and its usually by the well intentioned, all though uninformed, that I, for whatever reason, didn't change my last name to his.
What does offend me, and I actually mean offend, is getting letters and packages - or referred to in any way - as "Mrs. Jeffrey Jones". What the fuck. I know I didn't personally contribute to woman's lib or anything, but I'm pretty sure we're passed the point in time where my value is demonstrated on whether or not I'm married and who I'm married too. Of course this helps to define me, but as much as it helps to define Jeff.
One time a box of all of my dad's elementary school memorabilia was brought out and I loved going through it but was completely perplexed that every report card and letter home was signed by "Mrs. James Howell". When I asked my mema about this, she couldn't give me a satisfactory answer. Something about how it's your husbands importance that is taken on. And so I pressed about why she was even aloud to sign it at all then it just kinda circled around because, you know, that's just how it is.
My point? Until we receive a letter addressed to "Mrs. and Mr. Sarah Howell" I will probably want to punch my fist through the wall every time I see that antiquated label.
And in other news, we got home from Europe late last night and I'll be storytelling soon.
Friday, January 22, 2010