I ended up with the nickname “Cricket” when I was in grade school, for reasons which have long been forgotten. I hated it then, but look back on it a bit fondly now when old family members and friends bring it up over the holidays.
I had the nickname goggles when I was little. My older sister’s friends would call me that because of my glasses. They didn’t mean any harm, so I just dealt with it, but I hated it. On the other hand, when I played basket ball, those same glasses and my messy hair earned me the nickname Rambis, after LA Laker Kurt(?) Rambis.
My nickname was Clifford ehhhhhh I hated that nickname. It was always Clifford the big red dog blah blah blah. I want to kill that friggin’ dog.
My real name is Elizabeth, and my dad started calling me Lizzie Borden when I was about three. How twisted is that???
My mother was fond of pig latin, for some reason, and would yell “OODY-JAY” at the top of her lungs when she wanted me to come home for dinner… it made me HATE my name, though, I’m not aware of ANY name that would sound good in her particular language!!! 
Well lets see I had quite a few of them. The first was kermmy. My parents and then later on in life my friends called me that because they said I look like kermit the frog because I had long arms and legs and a small body. Then there was Hotwheels my brother gave that one to me because I would steal his hotwheel and take off on it up the road (boy did I get in a lot of trouble for that one) Then there was the two I most hated and they were duck lips and Holly Bolly. My grandfather gave me the name duck lips because at one time I used to pucker my lips up like a duck all the time. I never noticed it but he did. Then of course there was Holly Bolly. I mean I only did what every normal girl does when she doesnt get her way…that is cry and have a fit :-).
When I was a young’en a group of kids in the neighborhood put on a show ala Little Rascals. We lip-synced the Grease soundtrack and ever since then the local bully called me Greaser. I hated it as long as I lived in that town.
But as karma would have it, when I got to college I was nicknamed Norm (as in Cheers, you figure it out) by my fraternity and to this day there are people who don’t know my real name. And I’m still something of a legend in the chapter (as in Beers, read the police reports yourself).
For years, my dad called me “shaver”. I’ve heard it used on other little kids, and I still don’t get it. Pretty much had to sit him down and say “Dad, quit it. It’s getting ridiculous,” before he finally stopped.
And my brother, for some oddball reason, started calling me “G” years and years ago. No idea why, my name doesn’t even have a “G” in it. And now he even has his wife doing it. sigh…
As you can see, my parents chose to spell my name differently than the more common “Michelle.” I’ve grown to love my name, however, I really disliked the nickname that sprung forth from it.
When I was 5, my dad registered me for kindergarten. The secretary looked at my name and said to my father, “Mishell…but, weren’t you afraid that the other kids would call her Miss Hell?” I never once had a classmate call me that, but my father has called me that ever since. To this day, I’m 23 years old, and my dad still calls me Miss Hell.
Ah well, it’s better than my parents’ other nickname for me. I’d rather spend eternity trapped in my cubicle at work with a Shania Twain CD on repeat than disclose that little tidbit. I finally cured them of calling me that one on my 13th birthday. They wrote it on my cake, and when I saw it, I ran sobbing from the room. I havn’t heard it since.
Around the age of 10-ish my brother would come to my baseball games and waited until I started pitching to yell out “Moose!” at me from the stands. Damn, I hated that name. He still calls me it every now and then, but the moment anyone brings up Bullwinkle, they die. Why I got this name? Be damned If I know. Maybe it has to do with my name starting with an “M”.
Beaker.
As in Dr. Bunsen Honeydew’s assistant on The Muppet Show.
Upon reflection, this may be why I’ve never gotten in touch with anyone from my pre-college days.
–sublight.
Well, I was called Smurf cause I wore a lot of blue… until I attacked a class mate and gave him some lovely bruises around his neck.
Once I got to Jr. High it was Super-Nerd… which still makes me cringe to think about. Also solved by a near-homocide.
In High School it was Waldo, from a Van Halen video, and that one was ok…
Now it’s Tristan, mostly. I like that one to.
I was called Sammy boy by the extended family for purt near 14 years. Still makes me cringe.
I don’t talk to them much.
Okay, so this wasn’t my nickname. Here’s the story. My ex-gf’s name is November. When she was around 2-3, she managed to eat a tremendous amount of blueberries. This caused some sort of bowel problem and suffice to say she had an accident that resulted in rather poopy socks.
So her parents started calling her Poop Sock. Pretty bad, huh? Gets worse.
It was her first day of Kindergarten. The teacher says, “Hi, honey, what’s your name?”
She says, “November.”
Teacher says, “no, honey, that’s one of our months…what’s your name?”
November responds, “…November…”
Teacher: “No, honey…what do they call you at home?”
November, “Poop sock.”
HA HA HA!!! Okay, she HATES that story. I can’t help it - I think it is hilarious.
Tibs.
When I was first learning to talk, I couldn’t make my lips form a “p” sound, so I’d say “peek-a-boo” as “deek-a-boo”. My family thought it was adorable and called me “Deke” until I REALLY learned how to talk and kept yelling at them to stop. All was well until I was six and began playing teeball… the coach told us to have our parents put our names on our mitts, so I gave mine to my dad, and got it back with… “Deke” permanently inked on the thumb.
I was so mad. I cried and cried.
My dad still calls me “Kenner” when he yells at me to do something (my real name is Kendra). It’s not the least bit cute anymore… }
Antman.
It all started on one sultry spring day at school. There was a late-season bug going around, and all the other kids at my table in the back were absent. The warm weather had brought out insects crawling and flying, and when the teacher looked up and saw me paying absolutely no attention to what he was saying, I answered his question honestly.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m watching an ant walk across the floor!”
The class erupted in laughter, and the teacher (Mr. Migliozzi) dubbed me “Antman”.
It was pretty funny for about a week, but then I grew to loathe the moniker.
“Four-Eyes.”
Then the doctors removed Rosie Grier’s head, and people stopped calling me that.
Tatertot was my childhood nickname, at least that’s what the other kids called me. I hated it, but I’ve grown to embrace it. Plus, it saves time in thinking up a really cool nickname for myself.
My dad used to call me Pocohantas or Gonzo. Don’t know why, and he called my sister the same thing. Laziness in thinking up nicknames runs in the family.
My mom calls me Poor Cinderella to this day, because she says I act like I’m Cinderella and she’s the wicked Stepmother. What can I say, if the glass slipper fits…
cracks knuckles
My name is Kathryn. (Or Medea’s Child, but if you are going birth name you’re stuck)
I announced this when I was about six, having been called Kati for my entire life.
I say this once, and then I hurt people. I am not Katie, Kathy, Kate, Kat or any other derivative of Kathryn. I’m Kathryn. With the “k” and the “y”. Don’t screw it up if you want a non painful answer.
I’m also a picky bitch. Thank you.
(I’ll accept and enjoy most other nicknames, “Genius”, “Concubine” whatever…just don’t relate it to my real name.)
Well, I’ve had several, can’t say I’ve been particularly keen on any of them:
Baby Dot - this started because when I was just learning to speak, I couldn’t pronounce my own name, Scott, correctly.
Butch - my siblings and I used to play a game called “Go to the Head of the Class.” One of the characters in the name had a buzz cut and was name “Butch,” I also had a buzz cut.
Twerp - by the younger of my two sisters, whom I still refer to as “the bitch.”
Uncle Dot - my first nephew couldn’t pronounce my name either.
Scooter - everyone named Scott has to deal with this one.
S.K. and Special K - of all of them these were the one’s I could deal with the most. “SK” is my initials.
Gazoo - got this one in law school. Still have no idea where or why it started.
Scottie too Hottie - This one started right around the time I stood up in Sledman’s wedding. Unfortunately, now there are far too many people who think this actually some sort of name that I enjoy. {groan}