Never Ever Change Your Name: A Cautionary Tale



[Look at how blissfully naive we were.]

So remember how I told you I was going to get a new drivers license on my birthday?


Long story short, I will be driving on an expired license for the next few weeks.

Long story long…buckle up, kids.

So after driving around a bit, I finally found the DMV (MVD…whatever) and waltzed in.  Oh, look!  I thought.  There’s no one in line!  This won’t take long at all.

HA.  (That’s foreshadowing, in case you didn’t know.)

I was informed shortly after arriving that I would need my birth certificate to verify my identity.  Okay, no problem.  I don’t live too far away, I’ll just drive back and get it.

When I got back, the line was wrapped around past the bathroom.  Fast-forward 40 minutes, and I had made it through the line, gotten my photo taken, and was waiting to be called up.

Number B115 to window 8.  B115, window 8.

At last, my time had come!  I could see the end in sight.


“Well, the problem is that the names on your birth certificate and your drivers license don’t match.”

Well, duh.  I got married 6 years ago and changed my name.  It hasn’t ever caused me any problems before.

“Well, my social security card has my married name on it…” I offered, hoping that would seal the deal.

“Mmm, yeah…we’re actually going to need to see the certified copy of your marriage certificate, to prove that the person on your old license is the same as the person on your birth certificate.”

Huge sigh.  Drive back home.  Find marriage certificate.  Drive back.  (At this point, my wee morning headache has turned into a more massive one, and I’m so hungry I feel I might throw up soon.)

“Yeah, um…this isn’t a certified copy.”

I stared.  You have got to be kidding me.

“Well, it’s the only copy I was given.”

“Yeah, you’re going to need to call the courthouse in Utah and order a certified copy.”


Oh, and she didn’t mention that that little piece of paper would cost me $40.  And that unless I wanted to shell out another $20 on top of that, it would take a few weeks to get here.

So the moral of this story: don’t ever change your name and no one will have any reason to question your identity.  (Although I obviously obtained a license before without any problems, so what is your deal, Arizona?)

But on to happier things.

I did eventually get some food, and I did not vomit all over a DMV employee (although how poetic would that have been?).  Aaaand, the hair salon was able to squeeze me in!









I LOVE IT.  I’ve been growing out the pixie for 15 months and had this sort of accidental ombre look going on, and it was time for a change.  I love it so much and I probably cannot afford to maintain it, unless I can figure out how to trim my own bangs and dye my hair at home without screwing it up.

I think next time I want to put in a teal streak…



Any DMV or haircut stories?




6 thoughts on “Never Ever Change Your Name: A Cautionary Tale

  1. The DMV is not a fun place to go for any reason. I hate that place. That and the post office.

    Love the hair! And hey, once you finally get your new license you’ll have a totally cute do for the photo. 🙂

  2. I just left a long funny story about all the crazy things I have done to my hair and the stupid cat jumped up on my lap and stepped on the ipad and erased it. Sorry!!

    But I will say about the MVD that while sitting and waiting I struck up a conversation with a lady and 18 months later are still friends and play tennis together occasionally

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