A former professor calls me at work. I am busy. She understands. Do I have just a minute?

This is a woman—nay, a journalist—who likes to take charge of the situation. Fun, female, and fearless, she represents everything that Cosmo told us was possible.

Today her voice chirps with unnatural strain, an extra level of positivity even she didn’t know was possible.

“Mandy. Mandy! How are you? How is everything? How are things? That’s great, really great. So is there any way I could ask you a little favor? I’m having a lot of trouble finding sources for this story I’m writing, and I wouldn’t normally do this but it’s really coming down to the wire so if you could just think about anyone you know who might fit the description…

“Thanks! Okay, well it’s for a women’s magazine, and it’s this kind of ‘Problem, solution’ column, and see I’m looking for women—around your age, in their twenties. Right, but what I need are women who’ve had abortions. Uh-huh. But not just abortions, what I need to find are women who’ve had abortions whose mothers are super supportive of the decision, and the mothers are all like, ‘You go girl!’

“What do you think? Would you know anyone?”