next column
|
|
|
| previous column | next column |
I know the pain of amputees because my name is missing an L
8/15/05
by Kendal Enz
Bio:
Kendal Enz is a genius trapped in a handicapped person’s mind. She was born in Texas, where, indeed, everything really is bigger. Unfortunately, she now currently resides in the Garden State. She is going to be a junior in high school, and her professors will pass her with flying colors due to the fact that she studies very hard, or that she shamelessly sells her body. Either one. She works as a part time fluffer for adult film actors. She also makes up a lot of bullshit.
____________________________________
My name is Kendal Enz and by the time you finish this opening sentence you will have no idea whether I am male or female. This is my cross, a wholly asexual name with a spelling that leads people to scrunch up their eyes and search for a missing letter. Throughout my life, I have been frowned upon like an obese kid frowns upon sugar free Ho Hos. Those of you, who know me, may think they know why. “Is it because you were born with an extra arm?” No. “Is it because you have a third nipple coming out of your forehead?” No, but good guess. Although all of these things may have caused me slight ridicule, nothing can compare to being christened “Kendal”.
On December 30th, 1988, my parents decided to condemn me to a life of pain,
bullying, and an endless slew of questions most often along the lines of, “Isn’t
there supposed to be two “ls” in “Kendal”?” I
usually respond politely with a, “How would you like it if I shoved this
broomstick up your ass?” Apparently, some people do like it. But I digress.
Having only one “l” in my name is horrible. I feel incomplete, like
a Ying without it’s Yang; a Yoko without his Ono; a Michael Jackson without
a naked little boy. It’s that bad.
You cannot possibly know the pain of having to grow up with a misspelled unisex
name, but if you imagine birthing Edward Scissor Hands, you can get the gist
of it. I always assumed that people would believe it more likely for “Kendal”
to be a female name, but apparently, I was wrong. I can still remember when,
one day in elementary school, the school secretary called my 3rd grade classroom
over the intercom, and told the teacher that Kendal forgot his lunch, and would
the teacher please send him down to the office to pick it up. I can still hear
those snickers reverberating through my head. I’ll never live down the
shame of it all. I guess the fact that I had a mustache and a huge bulge in
the front of my pants didn’t help to better the gender confusion problem.
But what can you do.
It’s really embarrassing when I get asked how I got such an unusual name,
and I have to tell them, truthfully of course, that my father named me after
a fifty-year-old porn star he knocked up one night in a state of drunken confusion.
Not surprisingly, I have no friends. But, at least it’s better than my
brother’s name, Candy Pussy. Really though, is “Kendal” such
a strange name? I mean, wasn’t there a girl on Road Rules a few seasons
back who was named “Kendal”? My name must be cool now. You don’t
get much cooler than Road Rules. Where is that show anyway? You can never have
enough shows where people eat cow testicle shakes. Never. Luckily though, now
MTV has The Inferno: Real World AND Road Rules at the same time. I just pissed
my pants in excitement! But I think I got off topic somewhere.
The point is, being forced to grow up with the name “Kendal” has caused me to become a stronger person, and now I can face anything…Aw, who am I kidding? I see a therapist five times a week and my best friend is my pet rock named Rocky. My name has crippled me, and no wheelchair can save me. Not even the super cool kind with padded armrests and elevated footrests.
So, please, name your kid something nice and normal, like Jessica or Sara, and spare humankind a little less pain and humiliation…and time at the psychiatrists.
_______________________________________
Discuss this and any other column deadlyhippos.com column at our message board.