An open letter to ‘Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt’ (from a fellow Kimmie)

Dear Kimmy Schmidt (and the lovely wizards that created you) –

First let me get this out of the way because it has been scurrying around in my head for the last 48 hours: UNBREAKABLE! You’re alive, dammit! It’s a miracle!

Whew…that felt good to release.

Since 1982, I have lived my life as a Kimmie. No complaints; It’s been a good run, but something has always been amiss. My sister was a Kelly, so her life was charmed. She had lots of Kelly’s on TV to look to: Kelly Taylor…Kelly Kapowski and in later years even Kelly Kapoor, but never have I really had a solid pop culture name ally. I know, I know, this really falls under the category of new world problems, but isn’t it important to know you aren’t alone in the world?

That’s not completely true. Sometimes upon telling someone that I prefer to be called Kimmie instead of the more palatable Kim or Kimberly, the only frame of reference they seem to find is Kimmie Gibbler. Let’s face it— that can get old rather quick. It’s unfortunate when your only TV namesake is the thorn in the side of the beloved Tanner family. That all changed over the weekend, and I have you to thank.

Being that Tina Fey is the patron saint of female bespectacled writers everywhere and I would read her grocery lists, I spent my newly acquired daylight savings time binge watching the Netflix series she produced, The Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt. Without even a beverage or bathroom break, I had plowed through nearly all of the episodes, and in that 6+ hours of time well spent, I found the mole woman who is my personal spirit animal: YOU!

Although I have absolutely no authority to do so, I think I speak for Kimmies/Kimmys all over the world, no matter how they are spelled, when I thank you for your representation. When I heard about the show’s premise, I was nervous that Miss Schmidt would be a grating or unsavory character, thus ruining her chance of changing the landscape for the whole Kimmie/Kimmy nation after that whole Gibbler debacle. Luckily, my fears were unnecessary. A quirky gal who is sometimes baffled by technology, wants to experience new things and lives her life like it’s still the late ’90s? Yep, I relate to that! Who can’t?

Seriously, how could I have lived in a world without all the ingenious nicknames? In just one season, your show has coined: Kimbert, Kimothy, Kimmillionaire, or the eternally fancy Kimberly Tiara Von Lobster. 

In only 13 episodes, you have given me so many amazing gifts that I didn’t even know I wanted. I learned that movies could be shape-shifted into verbs (like She’s All Thatsing the ugly duckling in your life or Rear Windowing your neighbor). Also, you helped introduce the world to Titus’s Pinot Noir, a faux music video that can now rival Robin Sparkle’s Let’s Go to The Mall. Most importantly though, you reminded me that keeping a childhood nickname well into your thirties isn’t a sign of immaturity, it’s a sign of being true to yourself. (“You can’t have Kimmy without ME.”) Thanks Kimmy for doing us proud. Now I just countdown the months till Netflix releases season two.

Sincerely,

Kimmie Jones (A like-minded Kimmie)