Just Call Me Twelve Percent

I don't feel old. I don't look old. Really, I'm not old. But it turns out...I have old eggs. Nature is messing with me. Why is it genetically optimal for me to reproduce at fourteen years of age? At fourteen I was worried about having to sit through sex education, not thinking about having sex, or making a baby. A couple of weeks ago PLOS one published a study that tracks a woman's egg supply, from birth through menopause. Apparently, women produce new eggs from birth until fourteen, and after that our egg production is kaput, finis. And so, the gradual decline begins. Which brings me to my current realization. I'm not thirty yet, but close enough. By the time the average woman reaches thirty years of age, she has just twelve percent of her original egg supply. Just call me twelve percent.