Who knew that the chicken scratch that I scribbled on the back of a piece of paper grabbed from my recycling bin 25 years ago would one day form the basis for my 536-page book, Taking Charge of Your Fertility?

I had already been teaching Fertility Awareness for years at that point, buoyed by the excited responses I always elicited from the women and couples in my classes. The truth is, their reactions were usually no different than mine was when I first took a class in the Fertility Awareness Method at the age of 27. The only difference was that I slithered into my class in the dark of night, hoping that the instructor wouldn’t see me. Why, you may ask?

Alas, it all goes back to the humiliating experience that I had only days before at the women’s clinic where I took the class. I had applied there for a job as a women’s health educator. You can read the long, cringe-worthy version of it in the introduction to my book. But the gist of it is that I made an incredibly unfortunate faux pas by asking the executive director who was about to interview me a question that would ultimately result in my being politely escorted out the door before the interview even began.

Ahh yes, the ol’ mistake that so many people still make to this day: Before I even sat down, I asked her why her clinic taught the Rhythm Method of birth control, since everyone knew that that method was ineffective and antiquated. Seems reasonable enough, since that’s absolutely true, right? Well yes and no. You see, that clinic didn’t teach the Rhythm Method. They taught the Fertility Awareness Method, and there is a world of difference between the two. I learned that it would bode well for a person applying for a position as a women’s health educator to know the difference.

Oops.

Still, with my curiosity now piqued, I couldn’t wait to learn about it. So I took the class (awkwardly trying to sneak in without the clinic director recognizing me), and needless to say, I came away from it brimming with excitement at all the new newfound information I learned, damn near assaulting every woman I met on the street thereafter, determined to share my new practical wisdom with all of them. And the rest, as they say, is history.