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Chapter 1
Being Smart Doesn't Stop The Clock
It's
a prerequisite for infertility that your best friends got pregnant just
by looking at their husbands, not just one of your best friends, but
two. And, it comes up all the time. You're talking about the once a
year sale at Neiman Marcus and somehow, this reminds her of getting
pregnant on the first try. Not just once, not just twice, but three
times. Two of your best friends. Three pregnancies each. Just from
talking, almost. Maybe she got pregnant after the Neiman Marcus sale;
just the sheer exhilaration of having saved hundreds of dollars in one
afternoon made that egg gobble up that sperm. Which designer was it?
Dana Bachman? Albert Nipon? Even if it's not on sale, that designer
outfit, including the matching shoes, purse, and earrings was certainly
cheaper and less painful than the whole infertility scene. You get a
little superstitious after a while. But, both of my fertile friends are
teeny tiny, even after having their children. Neither of them look like
hearty, peasant breeding stock. One wears a Banana Republic size 0 and
the other an Anne Taylor 4. The size 0 works out at least once a day,
has a high power corporate job, would describe herself as "very
intense," and not an ounce of fat on her -- all the prerequisites for
infertility. Anne Taylor 4 never has a strand of her beautiful,
straight black hair our of place, never has even a hint of a zit on her
skin, never has stray papers on her desk, never loses her temper, and,
even after three children, was featured, in full color, on the cover of
her corporate magazine. How can they be fertile?
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