I know nicknames are terms of endearment, but I can’t help but feel a little embarassed when the guy at the coffee shop next door calls out “Spinach Girl!” each time I approach the register. It’s sweet to be known so well, especially since he and his wife notice each sick day or vacation day I take. Yet, Spinach Girl just sounds so burly that I’m afraid he might break into “It’s Wendy the Sailorman” soon.
I could change the situation by ordering something besides a spinach-feta croissant for breakfast, but habits are hard to break. Besides, spinach has lots of vitamins, just like Popeye preaches, and would I really rather be known as Ham and Cheese Girl?