Call Me B, Madame B

There's nothing that will make you feel like chattel more than having your name replaced by a letter--not even an initial!--on a manifest. A manifest of what? Dunno. It's an Official Document of some kind.

But I do like the ring of having a letter for a name. There's something comforting and Mamie Eisenhower and maybe a little 1984 about being called B. It's a pleasant antidote to my surly visa photo. So no more Kat. I answer only to B