Mrs. Hick

After approximately 559 days of being married I am now officially a Hick. As I was sitting in the social security office I started to think about what took me so long to make this official change. Did it finally take me this long to conclude that I could still love Dan even though 4 out of 7 days he leaves his towel on the floor in the morning? Was I just really attached to a last name people mispronounced for 27 years? Or was it something deeper? To be honest, it was two things. One, I'm just lazy. Two, about three years back I got a really good picture on my license. I know it sounds ridiculous, but this doesn't happen very often.

I remember my first license picture in good ol' Chadds Ford, Pennsylvania. I was 16 years old and I think I was wearing a Grateful Dead T-Shirt. (Not sure if that detail is relevant, but more a random memory). Anyway, I had nailed the written exam, paralleled parked and was about to be granted my plastic certificate of freedom...when I completely froze in front of the camera. I remember I was torn between a big smile and a serious face. I just wanted to find the right balance that would say to the first cop, that pulled me over, "Don't write that ticket, I was speeding because I'm rushing to do my community service." Unfortunately, my indecision resulted in a mug shot of a misguided, drug addicted 16 year old, who was wanted in three states for either murder or fleeing an accident. (I just couldn't pinpoint the exact story based on the semi curved lip and beety eyes)

I remember when the DMV worker turned the screen so I could see the picture and asked, "Do you want me to take another one?" Again, I was torn. Did I want to take another picture? Absolutely. However, I also didn't want to come off as a narcissistic 16 year old, so I sheepishly responded, "No, looks great."

There are few days I regret, and this would definitely be one of them. Do you remember when you finally got your license, and everyone asked to see yours? Yeah, I didn't pull mine out much. I remember the one day I decided to chance my friends' charity and pulled out my disgraceful license. Instantly, everyone started to laugh and asked if my picture was also posted at the local post office. Kids...so cruel.

So, when I went to the DMV in Salt Lake, a few years back to get my new license, I was prepared. I was tan, I had just got my hair done and that morning in the bathroom I had perfected the right balance of "not trying too hard, but keeping it real." Consequently, I finally possessed a respectable license. I just couldn't give this up. Can lightning really strike twice?

Dan, the sacrifices I make for the marriage...