Baby sale!

It is much easier to eavesdrop on conversations if you sit outside at Starbucks. Inside, the hurried fury of blenders crushing icy frappacinos makes the ear drums strain a little too hard. Outside, the only distraction is the gentle rumble of luxury SUV engines emerging from the drive through. For this reason, I was glad I sat outside on this particular day.

A thirty-something woman in white short shorts and a modest black t-shirt plopped down at the table beside me, placing her shiny black folio next to her iced coffee. Everybody at Starbucks carries a shiny black folio - they transport important documents and empty note pads. Oddly, people rarely refer to the documents or write on the notepads. I think they are the adult form of a security blanket.

I digress.

She was a solid tall woman with blonde hair tied back in a sensible ponytail. Her skin was freckled and pink and the cellulite on the backs of her legs was inoffensive. Just an average person and I thought little of her.

A young woman bounced across the road on the balls of her feet. She was definitely noteworthy. It is odd to see skinny people in America, these days, and she was skinny. Her breasts defied her slim body and so, of course, being female, I immediately presumed surgery had been involved. What other way do we justify these anomalies to ourselves?

She approached the very average woman and they shook hands. Skinny girl, who did not have a shiny black folio, sat down at the table not bothering with a beverage and seemed eager to get down to business. I was not anticipating listening to their conversation but it was unavoidable as only a foot of space separated their private conversation and my curious ears. The average woman began...

"So, I guess my first question is whether or not you have any serious illness in your family history?"

"Umm...no, not that I know of. I don't know much about my father but I can put down everything I know about my mother's side."

"That will be fine. Here is the paperwork to complete. Just put down what you know."

The young woman then asked "So, how does this all work? When are they likely to find a match?"

"Sometimes it can take up to a year, but, with your qualities, I think we can match you pretty quickly. It just depends on what people are looking for. Some don't mind as long as the donor is healthy and not unattractive, some want them to be 5ft 10, blonde hair, blue eyes and a 4.0 GPA. Once we do match you, we begin the injectable hormones to hyper stimulate your ovaries. You can inject yourself or I can show you how to do it. I am not qualified or anything, but I have done it before."

I almost blew my cover at this point with the incredulous stare I shot in their direction. Feigning a cough, I focussed my eyes back on Chapter IV.

"So, when do I get paid? If I do the injectables and they don't end up using the eggs, do I still get my money?"

"You get paid $1000 once you begin the injectables. You receive the remaining $4500 once they extract your eggs. If they don't extract any, you will not get paid the remaining amount, but you will still receive $1000 and of course all the medical bills are paid. Here is all the legal paperwork. It's pretty boring but just read through it when you get a chance and ask me if you have any questions. Also, you will undergo a psychological evaluation. You seem pretty normal, though, so everything should be fine. Just try to think of it like you are donating blood. It is almost the same thing."

"Oh yeah. That is a good way of thinking about it."

"Ok. Well, if you don't have any other questions, we're done. Just fill out the medical history and fax it back to me. I'll call you when we get a match. In the meantime begin taking prenatal vitamins because it helps with egg development. OK?"

The young woman nodded, exchanged a few more words of small talk, collected the paperwork and left. The average woman also gathered her shiny black folio and walked away in the opposite direction. The whole transaction took less than ten minutes.

Thinking this poor young woman must be desperate, I tried to rationalize what I had just witnessed. She must have recently lost her job, had a variable rate mortgage, gone into foreclosure and was raised an orphan. Skinny woman is a downtrodden member of society - somebody that certainly does not need my judgment. Selling her eggs is her last resort, surely.

Slinging the Coach tote across her sinewy arm, she reached into the side pocket for her car keys. The 2004 Hummer with sparkling chrome rims was not what I had expected.

I have never thought about the egg/sperm donation process. I didn’t know the world had these “match makers” that paired desperate couples with young women (or men) in “need” of cash. I suppose I thought these undertakings occurred amid hushed whispers in quiet medical buildings.

I don't want to judge this woman or imagine that I know her circumstances, even with the car she drove and the breasts she flaunted. I have no idea what in her life brought her to this point. It just made me sad.

The Fall magazines have started appearing on the shelves this month - even though it is only August. Flipping through one of them I noticed a beautiful taupe cashmere cardigan by Loro Piano. The price tag was $5550.