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In This Issue

• Celebrate Our Appendix!
• Alternative Motherhood
• Gossip and Nudity: Interview with the Gossip
• Letters to the Feditors
• The Colombia Spectador
• Yowie! How the Brazilians do bikini wax
• Making Waves
• Am I Naked or Nude?
• Marauding Interviewer: Dwarves Fascinated by Own Pants
• Big Nudity Exam
• Point – Counterpoint
• ‘Is It Cold In Here?’
• News Briefs
• News Quiz: Do you know about the important events going on in your world?
• Eight Situations In Which I Am Naked
• Get Your Hands Off Me You Damn, Dirty Apes
• Naked Haikus
• Naked Horoscopes
• This is Not a Naked Santa
• THEY Watch
• The Staff of 16.8

In last month's issue of the Fed, a writer wrote about his...um...gripping experience as a sperm donor. It is now the time to tell this story from the other side of the fallopian tube.

Yes, I am an egg donor.

I began my freshman year at Columbia in some serious financial trouble. Though Columbia's Financial Aid Office clearly states on their website that no student should be discouraged from applying to Columbia because of financial reasons, I got an entirely different message when I went in to talk with a financial aid advisor. When I told her that my parents were refusing to pay my tuition and that I would be forced to leave Columbia unless I received some financial aid she said, and I quote, "Did you think about this before you applied?" At that point it became clear to me that I was going to have to take some drastic steps in order to pay off those nasty little $13,000 tuition bills that come in the mail every six months.

I called an egg donation clinic after seeing one of their ads in the Spectator. Two weeks later i was sitting in a doctor's office where a nurse was explaining how to inject myself with hormones. You see, unlike sperm donation, which is risk-free and requires only a cup, some cheap pornography, and (insert your own masturbation joke here), egg donation is a far more complex process, involving needles (HUGE NEEDLES!), ultrasounds, hormones and surgery. Also unlike sperm donation, egg donation is extremely profitable. Every time I donate, a $5000 check waits by my bedside for me to grab greedily as soon as the anesthesia wears off and I realize who and where I am.

After testing me for every disease known to man, the donation nurse handed me the supplies I would need for two weeks of intensive hormone therapy. Now, as you can guess, there's nothing an eighteen-year old girl needs less than a hearty daily helping of injected hormones. Let me just say that had any one of those nasty pimply boys in my Lit Hum class offered himself to me...well...it would not have been a pretty sight. By the end of the week I would have had sex with a tree. The only thing that held me back was the knowledge that if I did have sex I would definitely become pregnant - WITH OCTUPLETS!

It is interesting to note that unlike web-based egg donation programs, the clinic for which I donate does not seem to be overly concerned about their donors' physical appearances. They are extremely concerned, however, about SAT scores and where the donor goes to school. This strikes me as funny since there is nothing that is more likely to be inherited than looks. If I were one of the couples about to receive my eggs I would take a long hard look at the fact that I'm 5’ 1”, a physical characteristic that will make others literally look down upon me for the rest of my life. And brown eyes and brown hair are so a hundred years ago!

So far I've donated eggs twice and I could technically have as many as thirty babies floating around out there somewhere. I would donate eggs until I earned the $120,000 for four years of tuition, but because large injections of hormones do not exactly have the nutritional value of broccoli, the clinic only allows women to donate four times. I have applied for private donation jobs that have offered to pay a donor $50,000, but as the sum of money gets larger, so does the demand for gorgeous model-like women, which I am decidedly not.

If I have learned one thing from this experience, it is that I sure as hell am not living in the same world in which my parents went to college thirty years ago. Only in the present technological age could I walk up to someone at a school newspaper meeting and say "Hey! Maybe we have kids together! Who knows?"