The password is not password

I am a lover of ridiculous, campy movies. That doesn’t mean I don’t have a deep appreciation for movies like “Snow Falling on Cedars” and “A Beautiful Mind” because those were great movies, but I like to sit back and let my mind go numb and just laugh for a while at pure idiotic genius.

Back in 2000, the second Austin Powers movie had already been released and I was pregnant with my son. One of the characters in the movie was a hefty guy who often repeated the phrase, “I’m dead sexy! Look at my belly!” I claimed this statement as my own the larger my belly grew.

One memorable night, I did a little dance around the apartment for my husband, Chris, in a pre-pregnancy dress that I soon discovered I could not pull back over my head. We thought the scissors would have to be utilized, but at the last minute, he finally returned my upper body’s circulation and set me free from the adorable crushed green velvet outfit. I didn’t feel too sexy anymore.

Anyway, my son was born in August and that Christmas I found my first computer under the tree. This meant I was getting an email and everything that went with an online identity.

My email was, of course, deadsexy@aol.com. There may have been a number in it, but I don’t remember anymore. I thought it was quite clever until I began receiving creepy emails. It also wasn’t an email you wanted on a resume. You don’t think about these things when you have a job.

My first email meant a password. My password was “password.” How simple was that? What did I care if someone went into my email? I didn’t have any secrets.

It is almost cute how naïve I was. Almost.

Since that time, my password cache has multiplied quite nicely. I have passwords for all kinds of things. When I call the bank with a question about my account, they ask for my 4 digit password. What? I made up a 4 digit password? When did I do that? We go through the motions every time; they ask more details about me, I give it to them, they tell me the digits, I say, “Oh yeah! I remember now!” As I sit here typing, I can’t remember them.

I have passwords for the kids’ lunch accounts online and they each have their own unique codes for their grades online. I don’t get to pick those.

I have three personal emails, one of which I never check. I have a Google account I never visit, an Amazon account I do, and an iTunes store that I’ve had to change the password so often I finally started a password list.

I have a password for my work computer that, thankfully, links to my work email, but not my HR online and my thumbprint gets me into the locked medications.

In addition, there are my nursing certifications, my social media, house bills, and my blog. In all, there are about 30 passwords jumbled around in my head and they aren’t all the same.

My job forces a password change every four months. Some of my passwords require numbers and some want “extra characters.” It is utter insanity.

When people talk of the future and retinal scanners, believe me, I’ll be one of the first in line to open my eyeball to science. Besides, I need to save my brain for forgetting more important things like birthdays.