Yes, I am changing my name.

It comes as a shock to many--I'm taking my husband's last name.

After all, I've been branded as a loud-mouth, girl-power, independent woman. This usually translates into feminism of insane proportions.

But I'm taking my husband's name. And here's why.

Before I met Cooter, I thought I would keep the family name that has been mine since before birth. After all, why should I have to change "who I am for some man?"

But as I dated and fell in and out of love, I got a bit soft. I thought that I'd take my future husband's name, but keep my birth-given one for business purposes. Or at least where the future kids were concerned.

Then I hooked up with THE ONE. And sharing became so easy--second nature actually.  I happily share my bed and closet. There's no hesitation with merging our funds. And we'll (hopefully) be mixing DNA someday to create teeny, super-awesome people.

So what's the big deal with sharing a last name?

I'm stupid in love with the guy. And I will be for a very very very long time. Taking his name doesn't seem like something that society forced upon me. It just seems natural, organic, right.

Plus, his name (our name) sounds really good with my name. And how badass is it that I get the option to change my name? That in itself is very empowering.

In all fairness, though, he gets my name, too. I dubbed him the King of Awesome. Funny enough, the business card that started the whole queen-of-awesome thing was put together by him.

Coincidence?