From a young age, I knew I would go to graduate school. My father (like a lot of other foreign born fathers) emphasized the importance of having a couple of letters after my last name. J and D were acceptable. P, H, and D were even better, and M and D were the ultimate in parental bliss. I couldn’t be a lawyer because I have a soul. Medicine was out because I’m pretty sure screaming; “OH DEAR GOD WHY???” when you see blood is unacceptable. That left me with getting a Ph.D., which is a bonus because you still get to be called doctor.

The Ph.D. route suited me just fine because I was a research geek at heart and I’m really good at making up ridiculously long titles for papers that don’t make sense to 99 percent of people. True story: I one time heard a graduate student read her thesis title out loud and exclaim, “Wait….even I don’t know what this means.” I’m pretty sure her advisor was happy with that, and they didn’t change the title. Anyway, I happily entered graduate school looking forward to spending the next 86 years learning, researching, and becoming a competent professional in my field.

I absolutely loved telling people I was a Ph.D. student. The most common reaction was, “Wow.” Some people would say things like, “Geez, you’re so smart” or disparage themselves by saying, “You’re a lot smarter than me!” I think it’s socially unacceptable to reply with, “Why yes I am,” so I would smile and (pretend to) be humble. I didn’t actually think I was a lot smarter than everyone else, but man did it feel good to have people blow all that smoke up my ass. My need for validation from others probably says more about me than anyone else, but I’ll save that for my therapist.

Through some bizarre twist of events, I ended up needing to leave my program for awhile and become a Ph.D. dropout. I think I literally heard my father’s soul shatter when I told him the news. I didn’t have time to worry about dashing the hopes and dreams of my parents, though. I had a bigger problem: what the hell was I going to tell people when they asked me what I did for a living? I could no longer blab about my research, fellowships or say doctoral, doctorate, or Ph.D. four hundred times in a sentence.

My life sometimes reads like a bad sitcom, so the first time someone asked me about my occupation after dropping out was while I was in labor. As I’m being hooked up to a million monitors and getting settled into a gown no one should ever have to wear, the nurse looks at me and asks, “So what do you do for a living, honey?” I suddenly got very nervous and started to sweat. Forget the fact that I was about to bring a human being into this world; I was now going to have to say the phrase that makes independent women everywhere faint dead away. “Uhhhhh,” I stammered. “I’m a homemaker, I mean, stay at home mom, I mean…..” “Oh, that’s okay,” she replied. “I’ll just put down unemployed.” This was unacceptable! I was not just some unemployed chick about to give birth; I used to be a Ph.D. student and published author for God’s sake. I had to stop this madness and get validation from this person who was about to see things I was certain would forever haunt her dreams. So I said, “Well actually I was recently in a Ph.D program but I’m taking some time off.” Her whole face changed. She smiled broadly and said, “Wow, that is so impressive! You’re going to have a smart baby.”

I was shocked. I didn’t even need to actively be in a Ph.D. program for people to think I (and my unborn child) was smart. It was amazing. Maybe I had it wrong all these years. You don’t actually need to have the degree; you just at some point in your life had to be trying to get the degree. In the months since my realization, I have tested my theory many times. I always start by telling people I’m a stay at home mom, and when their eyes start to glaze over I drop the Ph.D. bomb. It always works. People suddenly want my advice about things completely unrelated to anything I’ve ever studied, and they think I’m a cool mom because my two years of classes obviously made me a better human being. It’s ridiculous and awesome all at the same time.

So that is my advice to you. Start studying for those GRE’s and get into a Ph.D. program. You can even go to one of those online places, because honestly; who cares? Everyone will think you’re smarter, cooler, and worthy of respect because you can take standardized tests and write essays about where you want your career to be in ten years. There will be some people who don’t care about your fancy education, but it won’t matter because they’re usually people who are anti-establishment and you know you’re smarter than them anyway. If you finish, that’s great and you get to join the elite club of doctors who can’t prescribe medication. If, like me, you don’t finish, you can just keep telling people that you will eventually go back. I feel like I’m paying it forward by sharing this with all of you, but I’m pretty sure when my father reads this he will just hang his head in shame. At least I’m still getting published, right?