Scrambled, Fried, or Donated?
Originally published on The Sex Appeal website
Every time I find myself out of work, panicking about paying off my student loans and keeping current on my rent, the thought flits across my mind: maybe I’m sitting, literally, on a gold mine. Or not so much sitting as in possession of valuable commodities that I effortlessly release each month. Around 3:00 am, eyes glazed over from scouring the Craigslist want ads, it always seems like a genius idea: why don’t I just donate my eggs?
It’s not like I’m planning to use any of them in the immediate future. It almost seems selfish of me NOT to donate them. And while I’d be doing it for the money, I’d also be doing something good for mankind: I’d be helping some couple bring a child into the world. So a few nights ago, after viewing my bank statement online, I took my curiosity one step further. When a sidebar ad offering $60,000 compensation for “intelligent, brunette” egg donors popped up on my Facebook page, I decided it was a sign and clicked through to the website for Elite Donors (www.EliteDonors.com).
Elite Donors apparently only assists one couple at a time, so the search criteria are very specific but change depending on the client. A quick glance at the current desired characteristics has me feeling confident: the current couple is seeking a Caucasian brunette, between 18-28 years of age, 5’3” to 5’6”, preferably with a college degree and “superior test scores.” So far, I’m batting 1000. I click on the link to access the complete application.
As I peruse the eight-page document, my confidence begins to plummet. Apparently, I’m not as ideal a candidate as I imagined. Question #11 asks if I’ve ever worn braces (yep) and #12 concerns my vision (I wear glasses and have astigmatism in both eyes). The relevance of #20, which asks about my parents’ marital status, is unclear but I’m pretty sure “divorced” is not the correct answer. #24 I knew was coming, but I still kind of flinch—how many times a week do I drink? Kind of depends on the week, you know? Last week when I had the flu, I drank…less than usual. Maybe I should use that week as my baseline. I skip the question and move on to the next page.
33. PLEASE LIST ANY SPORTS TEAMS YOU HAVE BEEN INVOLVED IN AND/OR ARE
CURRENTLY INVOLVED. PLEASE SPECIFY WHETHER THESE TEAMS WERE HIGH SCHOOL,
COLLEGE OR INTRAMURAL.
Fuck. I definitely don’t have athletic genes to offer my offspring. If the sports question didn’t DQ me, #37 definitely would: “Have you ever been in therapy? If so, why?” There isn’t much space allotted for the explanation, and really, what explanation would I use? That depression runs rampantly in my family? That I lived in New York for five years and seeing a therapist carries about the same stigma as going to the dentist?
So it seems I’ll be keeping my sports-challenged, borderline alcoholic, depressed, divorce-prone eggs to myself. Truthfully, if I had somehow passed the initial screening phase, I’m not sure how gung-ho I would have been about the actual procedure, which would require me to inject myself with fertility hormones on a daily basis for several weeks. I’m terrified of needles, and the invasive surgery involved with actually extracting the eggs doesn’t sound like a picnic either. Besides, I can only imagine how surreal it would be, years down the road, to meet some snarky little girl with glasses and an inappropriate sense of humor and wonder if we were related.