I hated my last name growing up but still didn't change it when I married. Now, my kids have it, too.

Courtesy of the author

In my predominantly Italian hometown of Staten Island, New York, you were Irish if your last name didn't end in a vowel. And if you weren't Irish, you were other. I fell squarely into that category. Couple that with the fact that my last name, though short, was hard to pronounce and easy to make fun of (butt kiss, body gas, so many options), and marriage seemed like my only salvation — a socially acceptable path to a more socially acceptable last name.