Kimberly

Giving children names that they'll be stuck with for the rest of their lives is fun

When I was younger, I thought that if I ever had a daughter, I would name her Kimberly. No one likes that name these days. In 2021, Kimberly is a terribly unpopular name choice. According to the website BabyCenter, the number of babies with this name peaked in the late sixties, and has steadily declined since then. This is because those late-60s Kimberlys became young adults in the eighties, the decade that spawned the “valley girl,” and for my money no name conjures up the image of a valley girl quite like Kimberly.

It seems about ninety-nine percent of Kimberlys shorten their name to Kim anyway, which also has negative connotations (think about the famous Kims you’re aware of). And currently the most famous Kimberly I can think of who did not shorten her name is Kimberly Guilfoyle. You know, AMERICA’S KIMBERLY:

So what draws me to the name? Simple: there’s a song called “Kimberly Austin” by the band Porno for Pyros (you may remember their lone hit, “Tahitian Moon”) that I happen to like. That’s it.

I’d wanted to name my kid after a song ever since learning that my Uncle and his wife had named their daughter after an Elvis Costello song (“Veronica,” which I just learned was written about Costello’s grandma’s dementia, so, don’t name a kid after a song before consulting Wikipedia). Now, a band called Porno For Pyros is a harder sell than Elvis Costello when it comes to child-naming but, I assure you, “Kimberly Austin” doesn’t sound like it was written by a band with the word “Porno” in its name. It sounds like it was written by Cat Stevens! I dreamed of one day singing these lyrics to my Lil’ Kim:

Kisses my fingers when I go by
See my mother in her eyes
Kim
Kim
Kimberly Austin
I like to watch her sway
She's luck before I'm going away
I like what she sees in herself
Gives me all of her confidence

But then Jen and I did have a daughter, and the name Kimberly wasn’t on or anywhere near the table when we were coming up with names. That daughter is 2 now. Her name is Olive and she looks like her name’s Olive. She looks nothing like a Kimberly. I’ve considered singing the song to her anyway, but I think that would come off as passive-aggressive.

When Jen and I found out she was pregnant again this year, I think we both expected a boy. I wasn’t hoping for a boy, I just figured we’d have one girl and one boy and that would be our family. The idea of a son scared me but I liked that it was something different. A girl would just be Olive all over again and, although we love Olive, no one is begging for another Olive at the moment.

It wasn’t until we read the word “Girl” on the piece of paper given to us by the ultrasound technician that I realized I had been hoping for a boy. That might hurt whatever-her-name-will-be’s feelings if she reads this (or, I should say, when this and all my other posts are read aloud to her by me every night at bedtime). But it did hit home for me that I will never have a son. We are not doing this a third time. Oh well! I’m excited that it’s a girl now. Her and Olive are going to hate me so much when they’re both teens and it’s going to be fascinating. But at least they won’t be able to physically beat me up, the way a teenage boy could.

So we're back to the name game. I’ll be honest, I wasn’t looking forward to once again wading through all those wispy, vowel-heavy girl names: Emily, Rosie, Claire, Gloria, Penelope. These are fine names, but I was hoping to give my (male) kid a sharp, steely, bad-boy name: Clint. Burt. Jake. Biff. Slick. Evil Thomas. Jimbo. Motorcycle Gary. Greasy Tobin. All of those are off the table now, besides maybe Greasy Tobin, which sounds androgynous to me.

We’ve got some nice name ideas for the new girl, but you can’t hit any of them, not the way you can hit “Jake.” None of the names really bounce (hit and bounce are terrible words to use when talking about a baby but you know what I mean). I wanted to name her Agatha, only because I love the idea of Olive and Agatha being nasty old harridans together, sitting in the grim apartment they share, chain-smoking, unmarried, miserable. Their mother and I, long dead, have left them nothing…

Agatha: Shut up, Olive.
Olive: I didn’t say anything, whore. [inhales cigarette]
Agatha: Oh. I thought I heard something. [spits tobacco on floor] Well shut up anyway.
Olive: [blows huge smoke cloud and gives Agatha the finger] Kiss my ass, you crone.

What can I say, it’s just a dream of mine. But Jen has convinced me that Agatha probably wouldn’t like being called Agatha, so that’s out.

And Kimberly? Once again a nonstarter. I can’t bring myself to put my daughter in league with Kims Kardashian and Jong-un. Anyway, I found a Kimberly Austin on Instagram. She is an audiobook narrator and lives on the east coast. I may never have a daughter named Kimberly Austin, but I can sure as hell pay audiobook narrator Kimberly Austin to record a narration of this newsletter so I can play it for my little girl whenever she complains about being named “Greasy Tobin.” It could always be worse, G.T.

O V E R K I L L S O N G O F T H E W E E K
Porno For Pyros - “Kimberly Austin”
From the album Good God’s Urge, which, coincidentally, turned 25 this year. The whole album is worth checking out if you never have, but this is their best song.