A repressed memory has come back to me:

As my parents and I awaited our lunch at Stephanie's on Newbury last weekend, it was pretty easy to overhear the table of smartly dressed girls next to us, clearly out together for brunch.  I was trying to eavesdrop a little to discern if they were 'New Brahmin' or just recent BU psychology graduates playing Sex & The City when one started talking about her soon-to-be-born child.  After the usual questions about when she was due, etc., yawn, one of the girls asked, completely straight-up and nonchalant, "So are you going to eat the placenta?"

I don't think I want to live in a world where this is a seemingly sane question to ask your pregnant friend.  At brunch.

Part of me wishes I had not heard the beginning to the conversation, just so I could be horrified to assume they had ordered the Balsamic-Glazed Placenta appetizer to share and this chick wanted to politely snag the last bite.