Sally worked hard to get into Harvard, believing that her sacrifice and diligence would ultimately pay off. When picturing her future, Sally envisioned herself occupying a seat of power. There goes Sally, with her MBA from Harvard. Remember the lanky nerd from Central High? Today, she is an uber deal maker who could sell the equivalent of sand to the Arabs and turn a handsome profit. Midway through April, just after taxes for the unwashed masses were due, Sally felt queasy. Nauseous. Assuming it was the eggplant she nibbled at a party, Sally plowed through finals. Graduation weekend was an endless nightmare of nausea, unexplained tenderness and secret fits of weeping. Employers came calling. Her plan was coming to fruition. Instead, she rarely left her apartment. Despite the triple digit heat, Sally hid her growing breasts and belly under layers of loose fitting sundresses. As the calendar inched past the seven-week mark, Sally could sense her future dreams slipping away. She was on the exit ramp with her sparkly MBA future visible only in the rear view mirror.