Oh, how long it took my parents to choose my name!

– Susanna?
– I do not like it!
– And Rebecca?
– Also not that.
– Sofia.
– Sofia? No!
– But in our family it is customary to give children biblical names.
– I mean, in our country, not all words beginning with the letter “b” can be pronounced in public.
– Let’s go with Cyranush, then.
– Yeah, call yourself that.
– Do you know the translation? “Sweet Peachy.”
– That’s dirty!

– You’re impossible to please!
– Because you only stick to Armenian names.
– Is it okay that I’m Armanian?
– Well, I’m not pure-blooded.
– But I’m proud to be half Armenian.
– I don’t care what you’re proud of, but I won’t let you ruin my kid’s life.
– You’re playing with fire, woman! Armenians are a proud and powerful people.
– Do you know a single word in Armenian, other than “give me a beer” and “where’s the bathroom”?
– I’m outraged at your behavior. How can you not understand the obvious?
– How do you not understand that a child should have a normal name and childhood? A daughter will be Anya!

– You’re stupid. Anna Safarian. Don’t make people laugh!
– I like it!
– I don’t! Let’s go back to Rebecca.
– Over my dead body! How about Yulia? You’ll call her Gulchatai affectionately.
– Don’t confuse Armenians with Muslims!

– Oh, that’s it. You’ll call her Yuliko.
– And don’t bring Georgians into this. Georgia has always been Armenia’s rival.
– Okay. For me she’ll be Julia, and for you she’ll be “Lula Kebab.”
– I like that. Okay… It sounds really awful, but it’s impossible to reach a compromise with that stubborn donkey. The stupid woman does not understand the traditions of the ancient people.

One day I found a yellow sheet of paper on the top shelf in my closet when I was already an adult. It was a letter. My mother had addressed it to my father when she was lying in the maternity ward:

“Congratulations, our daughter Anechka was born. She’s your copy, just as black-haired and sassy.”

At first I thought I had some other sister, but then I realized that my mother still did it her own way, and my father had to put up with it.

How did your parents choose your name?

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Oh, how long it took my parents to choose my name!