Half of Live ClareLesley was married last weekend!!



I’m sure you’ll see many more of the photos from the wedding in the weeks to come!  It’s rare that LL and I are on the same coast, let alone the same room, so we documented it.  My trip last weekend was amazing.  It was fun to meet some of our west coast readers! (And don’t worry, our LL will still have zany stories and advice to tell from the other side of the wedding march!)


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Am I An “Amy”?

I’m reading Gone Girl, and I’m almost done—don’t worry for those of you who are reading it or have plans to see the movie, I’ll talk about the book some, but nothing that gives away any spoilers. I have to admit the book was really difficult for me to read for the first section. I grew up in a small town in Kansas, and I know where North Carthage is. I have been to North Carthage. My Midwestern town seems grossly similar. I also now live in New York—and although I’m not the heiress and namesake of a popular book series (yet), I was feeling a lot of parallels in my own life. Which I’m sure is a point Gillian Flynn is trying to make—are you like Amy?

This fact is almost as terrifying as some of the twists in the novel. Amy talks about being a “Cool Girl” and makes herself a blend of what men think they want—the thin girl who isn’t afraid to eat, likes to be adventurous, and isn’t upset if a guy goes off and does his own thing instead of premade plans with her. There are a few articles out on the subject like this one, that state their viewpoints on “Cool Girl” status.

In the shower, I was thinking of this—I seem to do a lot of deep thinking in the shower, which is a pain in the ass because by the time I get out, I forget the amazing topics I had just brainstormed.  In the shower I wondered if I should shave my legs, but shrugged it off thinking: I’m not sleeping with anyone at the moment, so…why? After the shower, I was thinking about my last few weeks…I’ve been occupied by a relationship of sorts with a man and it wasn’t as engaging as I would have liked it to have been, so I’m moving on. But before it turned the corner, I was out shopping and planning. I bought new razors, thigh highs, and the pretty kind of panties—the ones that after you wear a couple of times just get all frizzy, so you save them in the back of your drawer for “special occasions” and then in a few years clean out said drawer, and end up throwing them away because they’ve somehow ratted up in the back of the drawer, even though they were never worn—yeah that kind. I have all of these things, and am ready “just in case.” Lesley and I had a conversation about this blog, and she brought up that a common complaint people have when dating is that the other person changes after three months of dating, and it isn’t true. People don’t change, they just relax back into who they really are.

I’m a comfort woman, not that I am lazy, but there are things that I don’t care to do, unless its for show. That being said, there are several things I do for myself regularly like wearing pretty smelling lotion, daily mascara, and blowing out my hair. But the myriad of things that I list to do when I think I’m about to hop into a relationship is a bit mind blowing for me. Partially because the list is seemingly long, but partially because I’m so easily willing to slip into a vaguely different version of myself, a better groomed, slightly more sexy, taller (the heels come out) version of myself. Because, in a way, this is what I think I need to be in order to start a relationship. Again, not major changes, but I don’t show up to a first date like I do to daily things.

I’m not just a heightened version of myself only when dating. We all go into different situations where we are a shinier, better, improved version of ourselves. There is a different me at work, there is a different me with certain friends, there is a different me at a networking party. It just happens. It’s when we play into this persona and create even more heightened versions of ourselves that it becomes an issue.

In Gone Girl, Amy confesses that she hates this person who she has made herself out to be, this perfect version of a wife for Nick. The perfect version of a daughter for her parents who are in a cookie cutter relationship. She hates it so much that she doesn’t know who she is. She doesn’t even know what it is that she likes. Because she has created this character, partially out of fun and partially as an experiment, Amy makes herself out to be likeable (to which at one point she asks the reader if “likeable is a compliment”) and therefore makes fake relationships with people by being an amalgam of the things she thinks people want to see.

One of my favorite quotes is: “To be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best day and night to make you like everybody else means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight and never stop fighting.” ee Cummings nails humanity on the head with that thought. What is the better choice: to be yourself, or to take on who you think people want to you be? Amy says it’s a game for herself to step into these people, these different stereotypes to be more likeable. Feminism says you should stand up and be different than the stereotypical woman. I say: I like fancy undies and heels when I’m out on a first date—heels for the first impression and to give a glimpse at how intimidating I actually am, and fancy undies so if my first impression of you is a good one, I can know that I have a secret I’d like to share—maybe not tonight… but sometime.

I’m not a feminist. I’m an equalist. I think that if you want to let your freak flag fly, then do. If you don’t, well… don’t. Your choice, just don’t hurt anyone intentionally. I think that its fine to be who you want one moment and try on someone else’s skin the next—just don’t get so deep in a lie  that you hurt someone, or worse hurt or confine yourself. If you want to buy fancy undies, or fancy wine, or have a fancy shave, do.

Plans to see the movie tomorrow with my book club, are urging me to finish reading Gone Girl even though my inner voice keeps comparing me to Amy. I think, even though the comparisons terrify me, I know that I’m not like her. Yes, I do try on different versions of myself, but all of them are rooted somewhere in me—I would wear the fancy undies and heels more often if they were more comfortable. But ultimately its not the true me. And when I do put on these personas it is for me—possibly driven by others—but in the end, for me. I’m going to go finish the book now… maybe you should go check on yourself and see how much of your outward self is for you, and how much is for the world… We’d love to hear your thoughts below! (Oh, and I JUST finished the book… I’m NOT an Amy.  Not even close.)


First Kisses or The Search for Perfect Moments

Yesterday, one of my dearest clients excitedly told me about running into a friend she’s known for 50 years. The reason it was so exciting was the guy was her first kiss. As a total romantic at heart I live for these stories. Hers went like this: she was thirteen and playing spin the bottle. It landed on this man (well boy at the time), and they went into the closet and counted until 10 so it would seem they were in the closet longer. After counting, they kissed. So cute!

It’s not the most romantic story in the world—or at least it isn’t how Hollywood or fictional authors would paint it. Was it the boy she wanted the bottle to land on? Nope. But, is it ever?

Her story sent me on a trip down memory lane. My first kiss was unexpected and not at all whom I wanted it to be from. Laughing at the memory, I decided to share with you, as it is not only a testament to me, but also a story about striving for perfection. I was at a track tournament and was hanging out in the team tent after I had just finished my events. I am flirt by nature and was chatting up the guys. I was being myself—which by the way we believe is a LiveClareLesley trait you should always live by. I jokingly was reaching across this guy on my team to coyishly reach for something. Our faces so close, millimeters from each other. He, being a hormonal young man, jumped at the opportunity I didn’t realize I was offering him. He leaned forward to broach that nominal gap I had just created and kissed me. Smack on the lips. Of course, it lasted barely a second but it felt like time had stood still. My brain was working a mile a second. I pulled back, smiled, and ran out of the tent. Ironically, I realize now that at a track tournament, I ran away from my first kiss.
Later, on the bus my thoughts were going in so many different directions, my head was spinning. My 15-year-old brain was trying to take this all in. The scene I had been a part of was NOT how I envisioned my first kiss. It certainly wasn’t how Julia Roberts was kissed in Pretty Woman on the balcony. Wasn’t after a first date on my porch. It was in a tent with others around. From a boy I liked, but wasn’t completely attracted to him, and wasn’t desirous to date him.
When we arrived back at school, I got off the bus and saw the hottest most popular senior at school. He, true to stereotype, was just leaving detention. He saw me too and we struck up a conversation. My heart started to race a bit: a true hot bad boy and we were talking!! This was who I actually wanted to be my first kiss!
Determined to rewrite history (it was the same day, and Bad Boy and Track Runner have the same name) I grabbed his hand, took him behind the science building and I kissed him. Yes, it was great! Yes, it lasted longer than a second. Yes, as am adult I’m aware I kissed two boys in one day and that probably wasn’t a good road to begin my romantic/sexual behaviors. However, I wanted to take back what I thought was mine! My first kiss shouldn’t it be mine to decide to give out?
At the time, it was a big deal to me.   Now, literally double my years later I realize it was just a moment; an experience and not something to be so worked up about. One that I hadn’t really thought about until my client told me her story.

There are many times in life, and many goals we set out to accomplish, that I think we build up to be this amazing, PERFECT moment. One thing, or one moment, that will determine all others. However, you are only in charge of you. Or, at least you should be so, check on that today. Things, life, kisses… don’t always happen the way you dream or plan. In the moment, they are incredibly important. At the time I thought the most important thing was that kiss. I can’t even remember how I did at the track tournament—and I’m a personal trainer, I should care more about the fitness aspect of that day!! But, 16 years later, those kisses, those boys, that LACK OF A MOMENT OF PERFECTION didn’t determine the route I’m on today. I did! I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. I love it and I’m going to live it.
So, when was a moment you wanted perfection but felt it didn’t go as you planned? Looking back, was it the big deal you thought?