Friendly Names

Friendly Names image

Tonight, I thought I might share with you how Heidielka came to be named. It’s not a normal name, and it’s not really my name, if you hadn’t already guessed. I’m Heidi, but Heidielka, well she’s me as well, just a friendlier version.

I like nicknames, but I’m not really a fan of those based around a person’s name, especially if it involved shortening it. For the most part, we all have reasonably easy, short names already. Of course, there are some poor children blessed with a hyphenated, alphabet-vomit of letters to deal with, making every form an epic battle of penmanship. But for the majority of us, it doesn’t get much worse than Ann/Anne or Allan/Allen. So why bother trying to improve on something already pretty good? And for goodness sake, why do it with people you barely know, when a nickname is often a representation of closeness? 

With a name like Heidi, you’d think there wouldn’t be too much you can do with it. Wrong. Most of the familiar terms I’ve heard aren’t too bad—Heids, Heidi-Ho, Heidalina—but there are definitely some that are just not cool. I have a serious aversion to people calling me ‘Hide’, mainly because I’m not a verb. And the Flanders’ Hidely Ho thing has been done to death. Seriously, just…no.

My favourite nickname of all, though, was given to me by Wabi, sometime back in high school. Heidielka was born, I think, simply from her love of German, but maybe she can shed some more light on that for me? She’s the only person to have ever called me it, something I never realised until naming this Blog, but it is by far my favourite nickname. In fact, it’s my favourite form of my name. Strong, yet sweet, it sounds almost like a spiced biscuit, or maybe a little German doll.

I’ve run the gamut of blogs—livejournal, blogger, and many others I can’t quite remember—and each had its own unique name. So when it came to conjuring a witty and intelligent name for my new writing space, I spent a while trying to figure out what I was wanting it to be about. I realised what I was after was me, but with a bit extra, and that pretty much exactly what Heidielka is, right? It fit perfectly.  

So there you have it. I’m not sure you were wondering, but in case you were, that’s how Heidielka came to be called, well, Heidielka. All thanks to Wabi and her clever word-nerdage.  

How do you feel about nicknames? Any favourites, or pet-hates?


Pretty Little Thing

I moved home this year in an effort to save money while starting a small business. For the most part this was an easy transition—my mother and I are great friends, and my father and I have mellowed in our ongoing wars. My sixteen-year-old cousin also lives here while finishing school near-by and, because we’re more like sisters, we keep each other occupied. I’m also lucky enough that two of my best gals, Wabi and Rendez, live locally and I’ve been able to reconnect with a number of other pals.

Having had a pretty miserable year in 2011, I was also greatly looking forward to the TLC and home comforts that being with your family provides. There’s no tip-toeing around grumpy house-mates, or avoiding confrontation when someone is keeping you up again with their overly-loud chatter at midnight. And there’s the comfort of my fluffy love, Bonnie the dog, to mend my battered soul—something I’ve missed desperately living so far away.

While most things have been nothing but cherries and sunshine, there was always going to be a few problems readjusting, not least of which was the extreme lack of space. My parent’s place is in a lovely neighbourhood and has a spacious backyard, perfect for us ex-country bumpkins. However, the house itself is severely lacking in space. Originally built by newlyweds, the house wasn’t built with a big budget or a family in mind, leaving very little space for four adults to cohabit comfortably. Especially four adults with far too much stuff.

This lack of space means that I work, sleep and play in my bedroom—a room barely large enough for my queen-sized bed and small bookcase, let alone a desk. Instead I tap away on documents and client projects from my bed, which is extremely comfy (and warm as the weather cools down), but not so conducive to hard-core business productivity. In fact, it’s seriously starting to cramp my career-woman style.

So, spurred on by my mother’s suggestion I look at alternative office solutions, I’ve been doing a little bit of caravan-perving, with the goal of finding something I can place in the backyard. I’ve always had a bit of a love for little old vans, and have dreamt of my very own cubby-van. I can just see myself unlocking the door every morning and spending the day inside this little sweetie:

SnailTrail's Little Pip, via Allison Bozeman's Pinterest

And I know I’d be excited to get up every day if it meant going to work here:

Trelise Cooper's Retro Van for Breast Cancer Research, via Kimberly's Pinterest

Even paperwork would be bearable surrounded by bunting and cushions, and I’d have plenty of room for clients to come visit:

From Before, After and Everything in Between

I’ve been searching ebay and crunching the numbers, and I think that by mid-year my business will have a brand new home. It may not be as pretty as these ladies to start with, but with a bit of TLC and some time, I’m sure I can make it just as cute.

Body Beautiful: Embarrassing Bits

I tell this story about a lady I served when I worked in a swimsuit store. She came in and, on being asked what I could help her with, she looked me straight in the eye, without the slightest hint of embarrassment, and said “I need a pair of swimmers. I want the long, short-style bottoms because otherwise my flaps hang out”.

Whenever I tell that story I get a round of guffaws and usually some screams of shock-and-awe. I was shocked when it happened. I had to go out the back to prevent myself from rudely laughing in the woman’s face. I was completely bemused that this woman would be so open about the state of her nether-bits. But the more I tell the story – and it’s often when a friend is moaning about their bikini line or some such thing – I realise that I shouldn’t have been so shocked, I should have been proud of her.

I come from a very liberal household, so it’s not too hard to see why I’m incredibly open and shameless when it comes to talking about all things sex and naughty bits related. Wabi and I regularly have conversations that would cause a number of our other friends to squirm at the oversharing, and these are often conversations I’ve also had with my mother, cousin or aunt – often with male relatives sitting within earshot. And yet even Wabi, my female family members, and I are hung up on perceptions of body image. We can talk about them to the cows come home, but in the end we don’t like our bits.

Whether it’s boobs too big or small, or just too saggy , or our vaginas being too hairy, too bulky, or too ‘lippy’, most girls have some issue with their bits that causes crazy activities (think tissues-down bra, or panicked self-bikini wax) at the thought of public inspection. Turns out guys don’t have it much easier – they have size to worry about as well. Too short, too skinny, funny shaped, strange-looking – the Penis, like the vagina and breasts, is not a uniform item of perfection. But they all should be.

Remember the lady from the swimsuit store? She had the right idea – it ain’t perfect, but it’s what I’ve got and I’m going to live with it. The problem is, as with every other body part, the media and society have created these ideals of perfection which we take on board, measuring ourselves against them even when we know better. And so, increasingly, women and men are going to extremes to ‘renovate’ their genitals as if it were a house or car in need of tricking out. Girls as young as 16 are undergoing procedures on their breasts and vaginas in an effort to make themselves more ‘normal’. That scares me. That someone still so young would consider their own body so malformed they need it operated on is heartbreaking.

The below documentaries deal with these very issues. The female documentary, The Perfect Vagina, by Heather Leach and Lisa Rogers,  I watched last year some time and was astounded by the desperateness of some of the women. Lawrence Barraclough’s, My Penis and Everyone Else’s, deals with similar issues of embarrassment for men, and is just as saddening, but with a somewhat more jubilant ending. I urge you all to watch these, both of them, if only to see the castings/photos of other’s bits. If you have teenagers, or even older kids, or a husband or wife, show them as well. And then talk about it. Why? Because the more we talk about it the less it stays in the shadows, and the more open we can be, the less young girls and boys (and women and men) are likely to feel that they are the only one with embarrassing bits.

The Perfect Vagina

My Penis and Everyone Else’s