I'm a 'Level 5'

One of the most challenging adjustments when moving to Laramie was the lack of anonymity. Prior to moving here, I lived in Salt Lake City. Not a HUGE city, but definitely good sized. You are free to run errands after spinning class without fear of running into at least 12 people you know. This happened weekly.

I do it less often now. The first few visits to Safeway in Laramie demonstrated that is was NOT appropriate to wear spandex, smell pretty ripe, and have wet hair (not because it's raining, but because you just left a puddle on the spinning room floor) while shopping for Honey Crisp apples.

It wasn't that I was embarrassed that I looked as if I had been dragged through a car wash. No, it was more... trying not to look completely unprofessional to clients, students, and faculty. There's definitely a hierarchy in a PhD program and its best not to demonstrate to everyone that you are at the bottom. Faculty will ignore you. Students will walk all over you. And clients will disregard everything you say. Not ideal.

As it turns out, I know a lot of people in this town. Mostly through clinical placements in the community, teaching undergraduates, and as the alcohol graduate assistant for the university. For the alcohol assistantship I often had to explain to 18 year old males why it wasn't always a good idea to duct tape your friend's hands to two forties. The perks of this placement are when I run into a student at a bar, who was previously referred to me for an alcohol violation, and he buys me a drink.

The grocery store and bars are not the only places where you run into people you know. Everywhere is like this. Especially after five years of living here. Yesterday, out for a short 3-mile run, I saw two, yes TWO people I knew. This, I'm okay with. I'm happy with people knowing I run, I exercise, and sometimes I smell really stinky after a workout. I'm studying to be a Health Psychologist after all. Practice what you preach!

However, I recently had a less than positive small town experience.

I'm a 'Level 5'.

That means, on a scale of 1 to 6, with 6 meaning ABSOLUTELY NO INCOME, I'm a ‘Level 5’... next to absolutely no income... graduate stipend. As a 28 year old with little income and an active sex life (my grandmother may have just gone hysterically blind and deaf), I purchase my birth control through an agency similar to Planned Parenthood. They have denoted me a 'Level 5'.

As a 'Level 5' I receive certain benefits, though not without significant cost. The benefits are limited to affordable birth control. The costs... may, in fact, NOT outweigh the benefits.

Again, on a graduate stipend, I receive my yearly physical through student health, sometimes referred to as "Student Death." (Note: I LOVE my practitioner, her name is Amy, and she is wonderful). In order to receive affordable birth control, I have to have my records faxed over to Planned Parenthood-type agency. You would think, as I did, not a big deal, they're professional, and I'm sure they have some type of confidentiality policy.

And I'm sure the former student of mine, volunteering no less, who received my ENTIRE gynecological history for the last decade (because I'm really good about forwarding my old records to my new doc—it may not be such a good idea to be so conscientious) will not blab to the Laramie community about the results of my last pap smear. But... still, it was quite jarring walking in and realizing, "I know you, you have just seen my entire reproductive history, this is totally awkward. You also know I'm a 'Level 5'!"

She's a lovely girl, but, seriously, I cannot wait until the person behind the counter of the pharmacy (and as you can see, I plan to have health insurance soon!) is completely anonymous. I move back to SLC at the end of this semester and plan to start a routine of Saturday grocery shopping after a morning at the gym (and relish my stinkiness!).