I am a Hazel and I’m here to tell you the Hazels are growing.
Earlier this week Today.com posted a list of “32 fall-inspired baby names for autumn-loving parents-to-be.” I didn’t initially click on this link as I am not expecting and don’t plan to anytime soon (also I traded my eventual first born for large quantities of straw spun into gold, but that’s another story) but my colleagues alerted me to the fact that my name was included. “Autumn names that have become especially popular in recent years include Maple, Hazel, Forrest and Willow,” the list reads.
I sighed. I had known this for some time. The name Hazel has been growing in popularity for some time now. There were Hazels before me (that rabbit from Watership Down, pro-labor singer Hazel Dickens, the Little Rock racist) but there are definitely more Hazels coming after me. There was Julia Roberts’ baby Hazel and then there was Emily Blunt’s daughter Hazel. Now Hazel ranks #41 in popular girl names for 2018, but in 2008 it was #345 and in 1998 it was #943. Every time I go to brunch in Park Slope someone says “oh Hazel, don’t!” and I say “who? me???” but it’s just a woman talking to her small child dressed in baby J. Crew or a miniature Slowdive t-shirt they ordered off of Etsy or whatever NYC babies are wearing these days, I don’t know.
The problem is...I am going to be very, very great one day. Extremely great. I’m like 9..........3% sure of it. So great that when people hear Hazel they will think of me alone. And frankly I don’t think your children should be subjected to a lifetime of trying to live up to my legacy as a beautiful, funny, intelligent, uh, professional blogger.
It’s best to save them the embarrassment now.
Also...ya late bitches!!!