My Name

One day. One ski lift. One man. One woman. One name. My name.

Yesterday I turned fifteen years old and therefore it seems like a pretty good time to tell you the story about how my parents came up with my name. 

In my first blog post, I mentioned how I wished that the idea of me starting a blog had occurred on the ski slopes on a ski lift since it would sound ‘more magical and story like’. I do love a good, magical story. But a magical story that has happened in real life… that’s even better!

Well here is one. Maybe I’m making too much of a fuss over something but where’s the fun in life if we don’t exaggerate and go on about things. 

So here it is… the story of my name.

My mother was four months pregnant with me and was sitting beside my dad on a ski lift in France. And just like so many other future parents they had the topic of baby names in their minds. But not only did they talk about names but they decided on a name for a girl and a name for a boy since by then they did not know that a baby girl was in my mum’s tummy, me. 

I know someone might mention my little error in my first sentence above, ‘one name’. I am aware that my parents decided on two names, one for a boy and one for a girl. But I’m just going to ignore that part… such a rebel.

Anyway as you can probably guess they settled with the name 'Gemma' if I was a girl and 'Ben' if I was a boy. Not Jemima or Benjamin. Just Gemma or Ben. So that's how I got my name. Maybe one day I will share with you all the nicknames I've been given in my life.