My ideal . . . name

I was in my bedroom the other day, smiling to myself as I checked off my to-do list. I had already achieved two of my goals for the day – putting on a bra and staying hydrated – so I felt pretty great. I checked the time, energised and ready to face my next task. I saw that it was 10pm, the blue of the night and this soldier’s bedtime. So I cast aside my list and began instead to imagine the ideal name.

The media hound me with the same two questions all the time and I’m finally ready to answer, loud and proud. Hear my truth! Yes – this is my real butt. I specifically target my posterior chain with a range of whole body functional movements, so those implant rumours really hurt.

Next question: would I change my name if I get married? No way.

Unless I marry John Legend, in which case I will take his name and while I’m at it I’ll change my first name to Total. Only then will my handle do me justice.

Right now, I go by my original name Maeve (phonetic pronunciation Shuh-REES). It’s a sturdy little name, puts people in mind of my girl Queen Maeve. She was around a long time ago, sticking it to the patriarchy even before the Spice Girls.

Queen Maeve is a terrific role model, she was the CEO of Sligo, a big fan of doing it and she was friends with an actual druid. She got killed by a piece of cheese in the end, and scientists believe that’s why most Maeves are borderline lactose intolerant today. I know that every time I feel a bit bloated after a latte, I look to the west.

One-syllable names startle me. When I’m introduced to someone and they bark ‘Bob’ or ‘Eve’ at me, I get a fright. Just a small fright, like when you see a plastic bag on the road and think it’s a dead snow fox for a second, or when you go slightly too far with a cotton bud. Names with many syllables are preferable because they ease you in – plenty of time to make your mind up about Bartholomew as he stutters before you.

Longer names also require dedication to say. Nobody is going to shout “Hey Pocahontas” across the street unless they’ve got something important to tell her, like “Your pyjamas are inside out again, babe”.

If you are getting a baby soon, good luck to you. Those gumsy little bombs emerge nameless. It’s all on you to give them an identity (typical baby move – they also refuse to contribute to conversations, pay their share of the bills or even sit up on their own). Bear in mind that the dream moniker has the power to shape a destiny. So, name the child Jennifer Aniston. Your little boy will surely live a life of luxurious ease, his perfectly highlighted ponytail swinging in the Californian sun for all eternity.