Women are easy marks for drug companies.  They’re more likely to do their health care homework, correctly fill out insurance paperwork and pay attention to television commercials that feature medications.  They’re more comfortable advocates for their own well being as well as that of family members (a man has to be standing on a bridge ready to jump before he’ll admit he’s depressed) – and more easily turn her healthy behaviors into sales.  Women also pay close attention when an ad features beautiful young models, ads that pitch lifestyles as well as birth control.

So how does big pharma market a new birth control pill?  Several years ago, Bayer started a campaign to push Yaz to the top of the birth control pill charts; it was incredibly successful, until the FDA forced Bayer to pull the ads featuring women kicking balloons labeled "irritability," "headaches," and "increased appetite."  When a pill implies, to the background pulse of a popular rock tune, that it will end pimples and monthly bloat, who wouldn’t pay attention?  Who cares if it can kill you?  

I’ve followed the advertising campaign since it started.  Less obvious and more insidious than the original ads are the ones that feature a beautiful woman lecturing her friends at a high-end party where you just know everyone will go home and fuck.  Yaz is selling something beyond contraception; pregnancy prevention is just the start of the message in these commercials.   

The party pooper, as she’s come to be known in my household, states, “I didn’t go to medical school for nothing,” when her friends express surprise at her vast font of knowledge regarding Yaz.  This is not exactly the same as saying, “I’m not a real doctor, I just play one on TV.”  Ask a viewer whether she thinks that woman is a physician.  She just said she was, didn’t she?

The FDA has been all over this advertising campaign.  Given the politicization of the FDA during the Bush administration, it’s difficult not to read into their maneuvers; however, it does feel right that they are coming down on Bayer in this case.  The pill addresses a majority of menstruating women with its promise to cure pimples and PMS.  It does not deliver.  You don’t have to shoot headaches and cramps with an elephant gun; Midol, acetaminophen, or ibuprofen all work well.  Yaz is helpful for the minority of women who experience an actual psychiatric disorder, PMDD.  PMDD (premenstrual dysphoric disorder) actually interferes with quality of life and the ability to function during the premenstrual phase.  Yaz was also approved for prevention of moderate acne.

Yaz’s formulation includes a synthetic hormone that causes an increase in serum potassium — the level of potassium in the blood.  This is risky business; excess potassium can lead to serious heart problems, as well as involvement of other major organ systems.  As the corrective television advertisement states, "check with your doctor" to make sure your heart and kidney function are normal before starting Yaz.  And unless you’re intent is to purchase a lifestyle in addition to oral contraception, a more traditional birth control pill would work as well.  In 2008, Yaz was the best-selling birth control pill on the market.  And the corrective ad campaign only skimmed the top of Bayer's deep pockets.

Evelyn Sharenov

Birth of a daughter is still seen as a bad omen by many parents in the impoverished country. A girl child is more likely to be married off early, receive less education (or none), and be denied health care. In urban areas, child marriages may be rare, but in poor villages it is very common.

But now children themselves are leading the charge against child marriages. According to Republica, students called in the police to stop the marriage of four of their schoolmates, all of whom are minors.

It took quite an effort though to make the parents agree to stop the marriages. Dipak B.K, program coordinator of a local social group, said the parents refused to cooperate at first.

“After the refusal, local children took to the streets, rallied. and sloganeered. The parents then agreed to stop the marriages,” B.K. said. Among the slogans chanted by the children are “marriage only after twenty” and “child marriage will land you in jail.”

The students have done an admirable deed, but the battle against the evil of child marriages is far from over. The same report suggests that some parents may shift the marriage venue to neighboring India.

Bhumika Ghimire

It seems that not a month goes by wherein some study or another reveals alarming statistics proving that people lose their memories as they age. (I wouldn't be surprised if most of these studies are government funded.) In fact, I read about such a report just last week. Apparently by the time we are 27, we begin to lose the ability to store specific details for long periods of time. This doesn't seem too horrible. Maybe you've forgotten the name of your kindergarten teacher? Or perhaps you are unable to remember quadratic equations. Let's face it, you really weren't planning to use the stuff from algebra, were you?

Fast forward ten years and you are now having trouble remembering more recent events. Sadly, I realize I am falling into this category. Here's a conversation I had with some co-workers yesterday:

Me: So I saw a movie this weekend. It was the best movie I've seen all year!

Co-worker #1: Oh, yeah? Which one?

Me: Huh. It's on the tip of my tongue. You know, it's about the thing with the guy in the place.

Co-worker # 2: Well, who starred in it?

Me (wracking my brain): Wait. It'll come to me. It's the guy with the crazy hair and big eyebrows? He has an accent?

According to the report, by the time you're 47, you can't retain your kids' names. ("Come here, Johnny. I mean, Joey. I mean, Janie.") And by the time you're 57, you might as well just stay home because you won't remember what you did when you went out anyway.

This is all considered "normal." So is it normal to be on the 2 train, hear your name called, and not be able to place the person if your life depended upon it? About two stops from work, a woman makes a beeline for me, skirting a subway preacher and a strolling mariachi band.

"Hi," says Blonde Woman. "You're getting to work early today."

"Uh, yes? Uh-huh." This could be some kind of rouse for money, so I am using Standard Subway Tactic #1: no eye-contact.

"Thanks for all your help on the Schneider project. It was a lifesaver."

Abort tactic #1. Abort. I look at her. Not even a glimmer of recognition. I ratchet up to Standard Subway Tactic #8: vaguely worded answers. "Don't mention it."

"Are you kidding? After 10 years at this place," she winks and elbows me, "I know if we don't give each other encouragement, who will? Anyway, how's your dog doing?"

Not if someone told me that I would win five million dollars could I simply utter this woman's name. I'm now breaking out in a bit of a cold sweat. How is it possible to draw a complete blank? The subway only makes this situation worse — there is no escape, no polite way to excuse myself. No, oh-look-at-the-time!

Is there something wrong with me? In the spirit of hypochondria, as soon as I got to the office, I did a quick search on WebMD. I do not recommend this for the inexperienced. You will learn one of two things: either there is absolutely nothing wrong with you, or you are dying. In this case, I may have an affliction called prosopagnosia, an inability to recognize faces, something millions of people might have but not know it. Or it's entirely possible that this is a direct result of all the brain cells I decimated before waking up in my dorm room and uttering the phrase "I will never ever touch vodka again."

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go do something, but I forgot what it was.

Jacquelin Cangro