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By any other name

Many years ago, My then boyfriend liked to tell this story on his mom.

He was in middle school, maybe 12 or 13 and he had been sent to the office for some fuckery he had propagated, and they had to call his mom to come get him. So he’s sitting in the office and they’ve called his mom, and you can see through the window in the office to the school parking lot. Here comes his mom, called out of work to come and get her son, stalking up to the school, eyes blazing. One of the office ladies spies her and said: here she comes! It’s Mrs. Fisher!! And all of the ladies in the office became clearly and plainly terrified. They knew Mrs. Fisher. They knew her well. And they were afraid. And the first time I heard this story, I thought to myself: that is all I want as a mom, for people to be afraid of me if I need them to be.

And that, gentle reader, is why when I got married years later, even though I’m a raging feminist – I changed my name to Mrs. Fisher.