Despite having red hair and an Irish name and, I'm not. Irish, that is. So don't let the name fool you into thinking that a redhead named Kelly is Irish and is all about the wearin' of the green and putting on her Riverdance shoes and dancing a jig with the Lord of the Dance. Because it ain't happening.
When I was younger, I HATED my name. I don't know how many times I was called, "Kelly Belly" and "Smelly Kelly" but it was A LOT and it got old after the first 2 times someone thought they were being all witty with the nickname.
For a period of time in my childhood, I was known as "Girl Kelly." There was a little boy named Kelly who lived down the street so our friends would call him, "Boy Kelly" and I was "Girl Kelly" so that nobody would get confused. I don't mean that people referred to us as "Girl Kelly" and "Boy Kelly." We were called by those names. My little friends would knock on the door and ask if Girl Kelly could come out and play.
When Boy Kelly moved away, I was finally able to be called just plain old Kelly. Along with the Not So Funny nicknames.
When I was in my Wild Misspent 20's, the name Kelly did come in handy on St. Patrick's Day and I would use it to my advantage to score free drinks at the local watering holes. And the next day I'd be as green as the hills of the Emerald Isle.
Although they were A LOT of fun, I don't miss those days.
So even though it's St. Patrick's Day and I've got the red hair (courtesy of Garnier Nutrisse) and the Irish name (courtesy of my mom who thankfully didn't name me something from our ethnic background otherwise I could be Helga or Olga or Franziska or Svetlana or Iona) I'm not going to start chugging the green beer and eating corned beef and cabbage because, well, yuck.
But I am wearing something green in a nod to the St. Pats people because I really don't want to be black and blue from the pinching.
Kiss me, I'm (not) Irish.