I went to a new acupuncturist on Tuesday morning. It was a good experience, overall. The stress relief aspects are almost immediate. Let’s hope my fertility benefits just as much.
At the end, the practitioner sold me some herbal remedies, including… Wait for it… GOAT PLACENTA.
She immediately started telling me about how the goats are in New Zealand which has some of the best animal husbandry laws in the world and the goats aren’t harmed in the least in the collection of the placenta(e), and so forth.
And I’m thinking, “Lady, I don’t care if the damn goat is happy. I care that you want me to eat a fucking goat placenta.”
And yet, here I am, twice a day, holding my breath and thinking about rainbows and butterflies as I swallow the capsule of thankfully unrecognizable brown powder, as quickly as possible. You do what you gotta. (Or what you think might possibly help raise your odds by 10 percent, but who’s counting.)