What am I?

This morning I was on coffee duty at church. At various times during dishing up/washing up/escaping, my partner-in-coffee and I were referred to as 'the ladies' and 'the girls'. I'm used to neither of these titles, and pathetically grateful for both.

We all have so many names, pet names, job titles. We're defined by whose child/partner/parent/sibling/friend we are. Margaret, Margi, Mum, Thingy, the Woman that Writes the Books. (The Mistmantle animals call me 'She of the Stories'. Much calls me 'er.) I did my first teaching practice in a junior school which was one of the toughest schools in the area and occasionally I've worked with some very angry children. I've been compared to a lot of things, most of which have four legs and a tail. A nicer animal epithet was from the lovely auntie who used to call me 'pet lamb', which is an endearment I use to my godchildren.

I have been the typist (but secretary sounds better) and in all sorts of contexts I'v been 'the assistant', which sounds better than 'dogsbody'. 'My friend' is one of the nicest things in the world to be called, as is 'My teacher'. So here's something for you to think about. Of all the things that people call you, which means the most to you, and why?

For those of you who like to write, this may trigger something.