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On a recent Tuesday evening, I applied to be an egg donor. "Help create a family," read the two-inch-square ad ripped from the Chicago Reader's classifieds. "$7,000 to all healthy women to be anonymous egg donors." I have textbook-good blood pressure. I've been hospitalized just once, for a few hours, when I had a tonsillectomy. And I'm on the low end of the target 21 to 28 age range. I completed a short online questionnaire quite pleased with myself. I'd taken a practical step toward monetary independence, so elusive to my demographic during this recession. A mostly selfish act –- taken to help silence student debt collectors -– could result in selfless consequences. Maybe I could give a couple the family they desire. I have healthy eggs but no upcoming plans to use them –- why waste a good thing?

Around noon the next day, while scrutinizing Old Navy clearance racks with my mom, I received the follow-up phone call. A woman from the agency wanted to know about my ethnic make-up, my birth control method, and my family...