Where has the women’s movement gone? Where are our leaders, speaking on our behalf, fighting for us around the world? Because despite the tremendous progress our fore-mothers made for us and the incredible opportunities I’ve been presented with, I look around and the myths of marching women, of sisterhood and a unified voice have seemingly evaporated. I’m left wanting to believe in the dream of women standing on the same team, of holding each other and the world accountable to the ways in which we are treated and I am disenchanted with the reality.

But rather than live off the laurels of our mothers and our grandmothers, it’s our turn to take the torch and play our part in history. I’m talking to you too MEN. We’ve never been presented with such an opportunity, but more importantly, a responsibility to stand up and blow the whistle. One of the most unique distinctions (and criticisms) to our generation is our sense of entitlement, our belief that we can actually make a difference in the world and the bravado and audacity in thinking that we can and will be the resounding answer to our world’s cry for help.

In saying that, the girls I work with were talking about what it would really take to ignite THE 21^st century, women’s movement. Not in theory, not in a sweet, kumbaya kind of way, but how do we ignite a paradigm shifting revolution? How do we rebrand a feminist movement to speak to our generation, to be sexy and beautiful, intelligent and savvy? In a world where advertising companies spoon feed us opinions, assign identities, create entire paradigms and belief systems, how can we utilize the same powerful mechanism, to inspire an entire generation and candidly tell OUR story?

So we surveyed, we held focus groups and work shops to find out what YOU think. We presented the tenants of the feminist movement and asked girls to check the ones they to which they agreed. Nine out of ten girls agreed with all the tenants, then we revealed the last question of whether they considered themselves to be “feminists.” Unfortunately, nine out of ten girls answered with a resounding NO! So we were presented with the dilemma, would we rather take the necessary time to deconstruct the negative connotations associated with the word, “feminism” or potentially create a new movement with a name and a new brand? We chose the latter. We created BELLISM. Because the reality is our fight has changed, and we found the two most  predominant challenges facing our generation were 1. An obnoxiously narrow definition of “beauty” that leaves us all feeling chronically fat and hideous 2. How catty and mean women are to one another and more importantly, themselves. Can I hear an amen?

While there are significant strides left in the original tenants and goals of the feminist movement, we just need a new package, a new battle cry and a reason to get up and march together again. The older I get the more I recognize how important my girl friends are to me and how much our world needs female leaders injecting their compassion into major decision making around the world. I read about my sisters over seas who’s rights are being taken away, who live in inhumane, unacceptable circumstances of abuse, negligence, and poverty. Depending on your zip code, it’s like winning the baby lottery. I won and the reality is if you’re reading this from within the US and on a computer (much less your phone), that already puts you in the top 3% of the world, so you too won the lottery.

My dad used to say that with great opportunity comes great responsibility. We can do incredible things individually, but together we can ACTUALLY change the world. If there were a bell tower I could ring, a siren I could sound, it would be now. Because I think that we have reached a critical point in history and we are losing our voice and this world is proving to be a terrifying place when women become marginalized, objectified and under-valued.

Bellism is but my suggestion; it’s just a word. A word I actually came up with in grad school when I was writing a term paper on a “bad ass, make-believe, chick revolution.” But a word is all we really need. We need a way to identify ourselves, something to stand behind and believe in again. I’m a Bellist, who is determined to redefine our society’s narrow definition of beauty, to celebrate the intangibles and the warehouse of real beauty stored deep withint a woman’s heart. We are on a mission to remind women everywhere that we are in fact on the SAME team and that we can do endlessly more when we collaborate as opposed to compete. We’re on a mission to highlight incredible men who support, love and revere women to jump on board as well.

I asked my dad once if he thought I would have hidden Jewish people during WW2 even though I wasn’t Jewish, if I would have fought for African Americans slaves during the Civil war even though I wasn’t black, if I would have stuck my neck out for someone even when the threat wasn’t facing me personally. He said, “of course you would have, because I raised a daughter who’d fight for those who had no fight left in them, who’d lend their voice to those who’s voice had been taken away and to stand for those who could not longer stand alone.” But the reality, is that the opportunity is presenting itself right now and given the chance to fight for young women around the world, to be a leader for girls now, and to create a revolution, that’s what’s being presented now. So with that, I can’t begin to do it alone. I need you, whoever you are and however you stumbled upon this blog, I’m speaking to you this very second. Join me, stand with me, believe in this, and help us reignite not just any, but OUR movement. The movement of the 21^st century Bellists who stood should to shoulder and said, we’re going to make this world better, one girl at a time.

I have a feeling this is just but the beginning and what an adventure awaits us… let the history books make room for a bunch of misfit, Bellists with a myriad of lenses, but one crystal clear vision… to be the generation who fought for something bigger in life than themselves and left this world better than when they found it.

… you down?

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Twenty-seven years young. For me, birthdays have always been an opportunity for muddied reflections on the areas of my life that seemingly deserve a gold star, as well as the ones I’d rather sweep under the rug and forget about altogether; in other words, the good, the bad and the not so pretty. I think this year, though culturally insignificant, means more to me than any other because in all of the 9,859 days I have been alive, I have never been so aware of the power of choice.

I recently realized that in the mere presence of choice there lies an exorbitant vat of possibility. Yet for most, a paradigm of endless options and choices is as realistic as the Coyote’s capture of the ever-illusive Roadrunner. When one is driven by mindless “to-do’s” while being split between obligations and “shoulds” one lives a life shackled to someone else’s agenda. Rarely does a person ask the simple question, “What do I want?”  Not “what should I do,” or “what are people expecting me to do, say or be”… but starring yourself in a mirror and being the only person who’s opinion weighs in on the question, “what do I want for my life today?” Because in the center of your being, you already have the answers to all your questions swirling around your head and aching inside your heart.

To determine what you want in the first place, what you will, or more importantly won’t, settle for in all areas of your life requires candid introspection, uninterrupted silence and momentary death to all distractions. It has taken me 27 years to realize the beauty of being still (which for the record is vastly different from doing nothing) and the self-reverence that is inherent in granting yourself such precious, selfish solitude.

The reality is that it’s too easy to be spoon-fed opinions, entire paradigms, and pre-programmed desires, and to walk through life consuming instead of creating. And for the first time, I’m willing to figure out what I want in the first place and then patiently wait for whatever that is to meet my standards. To know who you are and what you want creates an unbridled ability to hold yourself accountable, in spite of cheap, imitation-filled temptations of what otherwise could be the real deal.

Whether it’s the latest silver-tongued, eye candy who’s waltzed into your life and takes more than they give, an uninspired job, or a capricious, unreliable friend; knowing your own standards allows you to easily walk away, disregard and pass over the sub-par without batting an eye. Knowing what you want in life raises the bar; it is self-reverence in action, and justifies unapologetic, powerful choices to be made based on your preferences. It’s the difference between holding out for what you want vs settling for what you’ll take.

After all if we have but one life, one chance to play all out, one opportunity to leave our finger print on this world, why would we not ALL take the time to figure out how we want our story to play out? Why would we not selfishly deserve to not only know what we want, but to have it? I personally am unwilling to settle for what life offers me, to sit in the backseat of my own car, and to accept the typical and cliché when I could hold out for that which is truly remarkable and arresting to the soul.

Call me Pollyanna, laugh at my rosy sunglasses and mock my silver lining infused optimism, but in the meantime, I will defiantly live an adventure-filled, first rate, out of this world, life journey… and for no other reason than that I am willing to take the time to write my own story, and so should you.

I will continue to fathom the most insanely bad-ass business ventures and chase down my wildest professional dreams. I’ll continue to surround myself with the most impressively creative, magically charismatic and wildly dynamic people I know. I will continue to hold out for the most integrity-filled, passionate, thought-provoking, gorgeous, God-loving co-pilot instead of dating duds just for the sake of it. Because at the end of the day, I’m determined to have my life be inundated with endless possibilities, imbued with unforeseen adventures and breathtaking, stomach dropping experiences. How can I be worthy of and honor this precious gift of life if I do not live it to the grandest? Go big or go home.

After all, if I get to write my own story, if I buy into the romanticism of “soul mates” (and I do), if I get to play the lead in my own movie, why would I not write the greatest action-packed, love story anyone’s ever read? My point to all of this is that, we are actually the authors of our own lives. If you’re willing to figure out what you want, to create your own definitions of success, happiness and beauty then you can create meanings for things that transcend the rote, unoriginal molds set for you.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had twenty-seven years of practice to make mistakes, tumble, fall, get bruised and beat up. Even after a number of devastating heartbreaks, disappointments, rejections, losses and massive failures, I have risen time and time again, and with each battle wound, I grow stronger and more prepared to face the next one. I cannot control what lies ahead: the myriad of failures that patiently wait to introduce themselves, whatever humbling blunders that hide behind the next corner, or the possibility that my latest crush may take my precious heart for granted and resurrect all of my sixteen-year-old, broken-hearted, insecurities; however, I have the courage to choose what I do with each of those and the bravado to not shy away from the chance to really live.

So if you want it, if you’re up for it, come and get it. This life is yours, an endless series of choices and then more choices, and even more after that.  But first, you must ask yourself what you really want. Few things are as dangerous as someone who doesn’t know what they want because they meander through life, distracted by anything and anyone, stumbling over lackluster and flirting with mediocrity. However, if you do take the time to know who you are and what you want, then the right people and things will show up like old friends that you recognize among a sea full of strangers.

Power is choice. Choice is a determination to create. Creation comes from internally knowing what you want for you and you alone. So my challenge to you and to myself is to create your own unique story, carefully cast the lucky people who GET to do life with you and choose the ending that YOU want.  All I know is that, I pranced into my twenty-seventh birthday party dolled up in a gold sequin dress, surrounded by all the people I love the most and so far it F$%&-ing rocks… and I have a feeling if I continue choosing what I want, that life is only going to get better. Happy Birthday, Me.

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In a house riddled with brothers, a mother who taught the mechanic class at UT and a sports crazed father, the concepts of “cheer leader” and “beauty pageant” didn’t so much as enter the threshold of my front door. I was too busy watching ESPN highlights, arguing over first round NFL picks and secretly practicing Mario Brothers in the middle of the night to impress my brother’s friends (who naturally I was always in love with).  As a bonafied tomboy, I always said, when raised with wolves, it’s to no one’s surprise you grow up with wolf-like tendencies.

Being the product of four older brothers, my pageant world ignorance bred a harsh, self-rightous stereotype of the “pretty and painfully dumb” girls who entered such seemingly vapid competitions. In fact, last year’s Youtube sensation, Miss South Carolina, served as justification to my Comatose Barbie stereotype of pageant girls altogether. So needless to say, when I got the phone call from a dear friend and fellow Survivor contestant, Chett Welch, to be a judge for Miss Pennsylvania 2010, I internally scoffed at the idea of a self proclaimed “empowerment chick” entering enemy territory.

During my five hour flight, my trepidation and paper tiger fears transformed into a brewing Armageddon in the form of baton twirling missiles, hair spray filled napalm bombs and marching armies of high heel prancing, perma-smiling zombie-bots. By the time I had landed, I was dreading the next five days and strategically plotting a “business emergency” that would prevent me from enduing a week of torture. Needless to say, it could not have been farther from the truth. After a week of anticipating a kamikaze, suicide mission; I walked away singing quite a different tune.

Her name is Shannon Doyle. She changed my entire paradigm of what it means to be a “beauty pageant girl.” She dispelled my harsh, unwarranted judgement of a world I had never witnessed first hand. Here was a classy, intelligent, second year med school student, tap dancing queen with a heart of gold. Oh and icing on the cake, she was in fact drop dead gorgeous. When we met it was one of those, “best friend, soul sisters” separated at birth.

There was also a panel of judges, who were shockingly down to earth, hysterically witty and sweeter than pie who turned my judging week into a pseudo summer camp for adults. Combined that with the current Miss America who was anything BUT phony and Prima donna, all things considered I had the time of my life as opposed to the suicide mission I had initially thought I was signed up for.

So through Shannon’s eyes, I gained a new reverence for the foreign pageant land, I learned about the history of Miss America and the exorbitantly high expectations and rigid stipulations required to meeting their criteria. Needless to say, in order to dispel ignorance and intolerance, it takes becoming invested in someone personally to willingly see the world from their eyes.

Now while I do have a new found respect for the Miss American pageant world, that does not mean that I don’t still find bathing suits and high heels minorly offensive. Given the chance to prove their “fitness level” I’d love to see a competitive game of dodge ball or calisthenics testing replace the current bathing suit portion of the competition, but as a whole I was pleasantly surprised by the caliber of women competing.

Pageants have their flaws and aspects of it still feel archaic to me, but it was also bizarre how much we as a culture take on pageant mentality on a daily basis. It would be downright hypocritical to say that we don’t play the “pretty game” on a regular basis.

Really it falls under, “to each their own.” All I’m saying is that I’ve stopped rolling my eyes at the mention of beauty pageants, that in the name of Shannon Doyle, I defend her honor, even if she is an anomaly. While I may be adamantly against Toddlers and Tiaras, and while I think the pageant world could use an empowered revamp. I do take my hat off to all the lovely ladies I had the honor of meeting last week.

To the current Miss America, thank you for your candor and your genuine, heart-felt passion for your not-so PC platform. To Shannon Doyle, thank you for being a personification of i am that girl, and to the recently crowned (burger eating) Miss Pennsylvania, Courtney Thomas, may you be THAT GIRL, rock this world, and bring home the big cheese in January. It’s an honor to do life with each of you and to know that our greatest strength lies in our camaraderie, not our competition. You ladies taught me a lesson this week, that to be empowered comes in all shapes, sizes and tiaras.

Whether we were the tomboy, bookworm, cheerleader, athlete, beauty queen, or student council president…. The real beauty lies in that we are  ALL WOMEN and the more compassion we have to accept one another, to encourage one another and to lovingly empower one another in spite of our differences, the more we can collectively contribute to this world. Empower women, change the world. Bellists UNITE, we certainly have our work cut out for us.

alexis jones, America the Beautiful, Beauty pagents, Chett Welch, Courtney Thomas, Miss America, Miss Pennsylvania, Shannon Doyle, survivor Hide

Okay ladies, our turn. Yesterday’s conversation about REAL MEN was a one sided perspective and I owe it to my brothas to play devil’s advocate and hold my girls (including myself) to the same critique. Not to mention I’m feeling guilty that three guys from my past felt it necessary to contact me and apologize thinking I was referring to them (one whom I literally haven’t spoken to since 8^th grade). For the record, all you guys are off the hook and just so ya know, my blogging for a “chick empowerment company” is never used as vindictive venting. Trust me, the guy I was referencing heard it straight from the horses mouth, I’m a “tell ya to your face kinda girl.” After all, I’m a writer and like musicians, authors, and comics, if you’re in my life, you very well may be mentioned in my blogging chronicles, so deal with it (said with a wink and a smile).

Needless to say, part of growing up a tomboy means that I basically lived in the equivalent of a locker room and was privy to “guy talk.” While I’ve certainly heard the horror stories of guys, I’ve heard just as many if not more about girls gone bona fied crazy and I have a deep compassion for some guys. Because for every bad guy apple out there, sits an equally rotten girl apple. I’ve witnessed firsthand manipulation, purposefully induced jealousy, lying, cheating and passive aggressive anger cloaked in words like “fine.”

Ladies, if you have the audacity to expect a real man to waltz into your life, you better be using the right bait, by first being a woman who is deserving. That means that you are willing to set aside your games, your coy, confusing communication and tell them what you want. And I’m preaching to the choir here but if you’re not confident in the first place to express your expectations, you have no authority to enforce them. Part of stepping up to the plate as a woman is knowing what YOU want and being clear about it. Despite what we’d like to think, they can’t read our minds.

You have to realize that our subtle, body language driven communication is at times cryptic, convoluted at best and thoroughly frustrating for guys. Guys are pretty simple creatures and lets be honest, we’ll extract our own meaning from their actions, create entire realities and scenarios that have never happened to justify our latest rant. Some call it creative, but behind our backs they just call it crazy. The point being is that a truly powerful relationship requires communication, authenticity and vulnerability.

The golden rule transcends all relationships. The cliché, “all guys are dogs” is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. Part of owning the responsibility of growing up beyond our childish imagination is giving up the dream that some perfect prince charming is going to walk into our lives and then, magically we live happily ever after. That doesn’t mean we can’t have high expectations, but have real ones about the things that matter and choose our battles wisely. Guys aren’t custom built cars, they come “as is, final price” and you can take it or leave it, but you  can’t take it and then start fixing it up and changing it.

If you want a great guy, you gotta be a great lady. As Kenzie mentioned to me, if you keep going for the gorgeous heart breakers, then it’s your fault. Fool me once… you know where I ‘m going here. And there’s nothing wrong with chasing down what you want and not waiting at home, thinking that the deliveryman is going to leave a perfect man package at your door, bow and all.

Confidence is sexy, intelligence is sultry, and passion turns you from a black and white, single dimensional page to a vibrant three-D bombshell. But you have to know yourself, be comfortable in your own skin and own it. While I may be frustrated by the plethora of “Man Boys” I’m equally annoyed by the volume of walking, “Comatose Barbies” robotically consuming instead of contributing. If we have the audacity to raise the bar for men, it’s arrogant to think we’d be successful without raising the expectations for ourselves.

There is nothing more powerful than a woman who knows her worth, but with that comes a monumental responsibility to handling a man’s heart with the same tender care you would want yours held. It means appreciating the good ones and stop thinking you can turn bad boys to saints. I have witnessed firsthand the disappointment and heartbreak of my brothers and my best guy friends. Despite what we think, they too are human, vulnerable, scared of getting hurt and deserve the same maturity, responsibility and honesty that we expect from them.

There are plenty of great guys out there and just because you run across a few bad apples doesn’t mean you can throw the baby out with the bathwater. It means you have to stay focused on being the best version of yourself and trusting that when it’s right, if it’s right, you’ll meet some awesome guy and it will be awkward and beautiful, confusing and completely worth it. At the end of the day, men and women alike, all have our issues, our insecurities and baggage but if you can love someone, imperfections and all, you got something to fight for.

alexis jones, i am that girl, REAL WOMEN Hide

Dating disappointment number 3,421. After patiently listening to my latest rant on subpar guys and their ridiculous antics, my dear friend Kenzie bluntly responded, “You realize Jones, you’re the only common denominator here.” Not necessarily the sugar and spice I was looking for, but you gotta love friends who give it to you straight. And yet for some bizarre reason, I always think “but, this guy is different.” Well here’s the deal ladies, I wish I could have tape-recorded the conversation I had with my brothers yesterday about my latest dating disappointment. If you know anything about me, you know my four older brothers and my dad are the most awesome, integrity-full men with an unparalleled reverence for women. So, yeah I’ve been spoiled with exceptional men in my life and my unapologetically high expectations are due largely in part because unlike many girls, I know REAL MEN do in fact exist.

Unlike the petty girl game of questioning ourselves, replaying every situation in our heads, pursuing old texts and critiquing what we did wrong; I have an unwavering foundation and accountability that doesn’t allow me to go there. This Sunday as my whole family went on a picnic to the wild flower reserve; it was my dating life that served as the topic of conversation. They went as far as to call one of my brothers not present to divulge the latest comic strip of my personal life. While there were certainly unwarranted jokes at defenseless guys, patronizing antidotes about the latest, greatest “winners” in my life all conveyed with an overall playful, “tough love” approach to dating advice; there was a brother bear, daddy bear undertone that was laced with anything but humor and that is what I wish all you had the luxury of knowing.

You see real men ladies, not the boys we’ve played with up until now in our lives, the ones that never had any intention of meeting our expectations in the first place and who don’t know the awesome responsibility and preciousness of being handed a woman’s heart; those boys aren’t worth your time. I don’ think I need to expound on where you end up with those guys because I have a feeling you all have your own battle wounds, insecurities, and scars left from the immature recklessness at your heart’s expense.  And no joke, my older brothers are the ultimate litmus test because real men recognize and appreciate the same in others, they sense a maturity, a sense of responsibility and willingness to selflessly, and with great honor fight for and protect the woman in their life. On the other hand, they know a coward when they see one, they smell fear and they can dissemble a false sense of modestly in two seconds flat. While I may not have the same animal instincts (and sadly, it usually takes me finding out for myself in most cases), I’ve begun trusting their judgment, I’ve seen the proof in the day after, “I told you so” and I know that no matter what, I’m their baby sis and that makes it their job to suss out the less than.

So yesterday, after a bashing session of their favorite “low points” in my dating life, my brother sat me down  and with absolutely conviction, in lieu of my childish disappointment (and if I’m being completely candid, my bruised ego and heart) he reminded me of my worth,  he reminded me of my value. He sat across from me and as I fought back the tears, he described the guy who does deserve me, the caliber of man who’s up for the awesome challenge of an equal and the lucky son of a %#*@& who gets to be a part of our family. He told me I was beautiful, capable, that I have an unbridled passion to make this world better, complimented my bravado, emphasized my golden heart and my unwavering faith that shines from within, “That alone,” he said, “will weed out the riff raff who know they aren’t up for the challenge.” Like the sword in the stone, most guys won’t even step up to the plate because they area already know they don’t stand a chance or deserve such a reward.

My brother’s pep talk was one for the history books. My dad’s embrace and that look in his eye when he says I’m his “greatest treasure” means settling isn’t an option. I can’t imagine that my brothers and my dad will give me up easily, but certainly not to those undeserving. Ladies, the point is to remind you that they do exist. Real Men. They are out there and like diamonds in the rough, they are far and few between, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t worthy of the hunt. And you may have to sift through a lot of imposters, glossy packages with no substance, “man boys” who talk a big game with no way to back it up and your heart may have to get a bit bumped and bruised but it’s well worth what lies in store if you hold out, I promise.

You are worth a confident man who knows what he wants, and what he wants is you. Live your life, run your race and wait for the guy who can keep up with you, who makes your life better and recognizes the honor it would be to lean over to his friends and say, “that one there, she’s mine.”

But first and foremost,  is starts with knowing you’re worth it and in case you haven’t heard it today my dear, you are precious, you are lovely and perfectly flawed…. Ask Poppa Jones and the four big bears… they are certainly here to remind you in case you’ve forgotten.

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I have a life coach now. If you’d asked me what that meant a year ago, I would have responded with some vague answer, with roughly the same insight that I have on synchronized swimming (which is very little). I know in theory that girls swim around and make shapes with their bodies, similarly I knew life coaches help you “figure things out,” but that was the extent of my knowledge. Then as a very generous gift, a dear friend bought me two sessions with THE Helene Finizio. Now I had heard of this woman (the best in the biz) and I’d dreamed of one day getting to work with the Queen of New York, but could never have fathomed to what extent she’d change my life.

So that’s how it all started. I received a gift, a stranger’s voice on the other end of my phone gently inquiring about all the nooks, the crannies, peering into the deepest darkest closets of my life. And then before I knew it, that voice was no longer a distant stranger, but a life’s guide, a dear friend, a confidant, a sage and a cheerleader.

Here’s the deal. I’ve spent more money on jeans, shoes and movies than I would ever like to admit. I don’t mind dropping big Bens on a personal trainer, expensive mascara, and the new Victoria Secret, must-have bra. My bank account diminishes at the mere thought of international airfare and tickets to see my favorite band play. Why then does it pain us to spend money on the things that actually matter?

You see, a life coach is just about the best buck you could possibly spend because (at least for me) I’m being taught how to live better. It’s not quick fixes, plaster over the cracks, but looking into my lifelong habits of loving bad boys, highlights of unnecessary self-critique, techniques on how to better handle stress, and the subtleties in thoughts that are getting you exactly what you don’t want. We’re not talking voodoo, mad scientist fluff, we’re talking about facing every facet of who you are intimately in a mirror and being forced to reckon with what most of us would rather sweep under the rug.

And the beauty is it’s not a therapy session, woe is me, kumbaya-ing. It’s practical steps to getting what you want, shifting your paradigm so that anything is possible and mantras that actually change the way you think. We have coaches for sports, tutors for school, mentors for business, so why are we not encouraged to have a coach for life in general  ̶  a coach for how to be a better version of ourselves?

The reason I’m gushing over this is because it’s a phenomenon, something I had vaguely heard of and I feel like it’s a secret most of us don’t know about. In fact, I started inquiring to all my most successful friends about it and sure enough, nine out of 10 had a life coach. Where was I when that memo went out? So here’s the deal, Helene has changed my life, continues to, by inspiring me, encouraging me, unapologetically challenging me and enabling me to do what I’m meant to do in this lifetime without getting caught up in my own bull$&#@ that serves as a serious distraction, temptation and/or a slower-downer.

She doesn’t remove the obstacles for me, but shows me the same invisible walls I keep running into to and leads me to the door. She helps me clarify what I really want in life instead of falling victim to society’s pressures, or other people’s influence. She recognizes patterns in my language that are limiting beliefs, and pinpoints my revisionist history of things that never really happened “like that.” She dances in a world of endless possibility and encourages me to dance alongside her. She doesn’t subscribe to what the world says and instead writes her own life menu and chooses exactly what she wants to order.

Helene is a miracle worker. She makes dreams come true, by helping you realize what yours even are in the first place. Whether it’s a major career-changing decision (which she recently walked me through), my latest 8^th grade crush, my personal struggles with body image or my financial goals, she helps guide me in the right direction. She is a flashlight along a dark road and a voice of reason when the world gets so chaotic and the endless possibilities leave me in a state of paralysis.

Life is tough — at least it can be. But as I’m learning, it also doesn’t have to be. The greatest thing I have been taught is that either way, we choose how our life will unfold, the adventures we go on and the attitude we adorn.  I feel like when you find something that significantly and positively changes your life, it’s a travesty to keep it a secret. Helene is a pretty penny, but why wouldn’t she be? She’s in the business of changing lives. I get asked all the time what my secret is… well cats out… it’s her.

www.HeleneFinizio.com

alexis jones, Helene Finizio, life changer, life coach Hide

I’m not going to lie, I don’t get the whole Valentine’s day hype. I never have. And this isn’t a single girl’s rant, I’ve certainly had my share of rose-petaled surprises, chocolate filled teddy bears and expensive ooh- la-la Valentine dinners. I just don’t like the idea that there’s this arbitrary day once a year where whatever guy is in my life, is pressured into expressing his love through a cheesy Hallmark card and a heart shaped box of delectable delights.

I’d rather him do it on a random Tuesday, in the middle of June, or a Wednesday in late September when he actually feels like it. All I’m saying is that I want the appreciation-forced 14^th of February to last the other 364 days out of the year, not all stuffed into a single 24 hour period. And I don’t like the idea of someone doing something for me because of a make believe bow and arrow carrying, half naked guy flying around inducing prearranged marriages.

Now don’t get me wrong, I am as hopeless a romantic as they come. I am weak in the knees at the sight of pink lilies, silly sweet notes written for no reason at all make me smile all day and dinner with a guy I have a crush on leaves me completely unproductive for a week as I replay flirtatious comments in my head and sport a perma-smile all day. I’m the queen of butterflies, lose all logic-making ability when I’m kissed and admittedly hold my breath when my phone rings at the mere thought of the guy I like calling.

So with my girly confessions out of the way, I am 100% chick when it comes to the sweet stuff. But I have to admit that I hate a guy feeling obligated to do ANY of that for me so I’m proposing a new concept for Valentine’s day, a potential hand shake, deal making opportunity. Okay guys, What if I said that that from now on, Valentine’s is your day off. The one day a year you get to do whatever in the hell you want. Watch football, play poker, go camping with the dudes, sleep in, I don’t care. But it’s your day to be a man, beat your chest and revert to the cave man that lives deep down inside. However, the other 364 days out of the year you make an effort, you do thoughtful surprises, leave cards for no reason and yes, you buy me pink lilies and chocolate chip cookies but all on your own time, when you feel like it. But on that one, special day, it’s completely yours.

And I promise the same goes for me. Valentines will be my day to pamper myself, go to the spa, get a mani and pedi, buy myself a new outfit and lounge in a bath singing along to the Dirty Dancing soundtrack. But 364 days out of the year, I in return will spoil you with fantastic home made dinners, buy tickets to your favorite team’s championship game, surprise you with whip cream bikinis and will have your favorite beer stocked in the fridge on poker night. I will go out of my way to make you feel special the rest of the year if you grant me one day to have all, completely to myself.

Deal?

I think we could use a reminder once a year to pamper ourselves anyway and seeing as we have the rest of the year to be selfless, to compromise and to be sweet and thoughtful with each other, we deserve a day off. February 14^th seems as arbitrary and perfect as any. The perfect day to be the good kind of selfish, to pamper ourselves and revel in unconditional, selfishness.

We’d also get to avoid the inundation of red and pink, overpriced set menus, hard to get reservations at fancy restaurants, forced compliments and chocolates. You don’t have to worry about forgetting a made up holiday and hurting my feelings, or trying to out do whatever you did last year or meet “crazy girl on Valentine’s day” expectations that were unbeknownst to you. I think I’m completely okay with all of that, well except the chocolate. I’ll pretty much accept chocolate any time, any place, anywhere (make note of that).

Either way, I’m starting a new Non-Valentine’s, Valentine’s Day trend. After all the beauty of relationships is that you get to decide what works for you. Together you write the rules and  you set and create your own expectations. Among many other things I don’t buy into, Valentine’s Day, at least for me (and this is NOT the case for all girls so don’t propose this idea of your girlfriend and get me in trouble) is being scrapped from my yearly calendar.

However, absolutely nothing above applies to birthdays. Birthdays are a completely different story… forget that day and you’re in the dog house. We’re talkin’ big time dog house.  July 6. Sear it into your brain and plan two weeks in advance, fireworks are suggested and trust me, the golden rule applies here so your birthday will reap the same MUCH deserved love and attention.

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Our San Diego chapter

Girls need girls. It’s a fact. Whether it’s ogling over our latest crush (and don’t pretend we EVER grow out of it), crying over our most recent disappointment, laughing at our absurdities, or confiding our deepest, farthest, back-of-the-closet secret; we need to be heard. Through sharing our experiences we have an opportunity to explore our own thoughts, work through our emotions and discover new kernels of truths.

For some time I thought I could figure out how to eliminate insecurities, fears and doubts for girls and women. If only I had the right formula, magic pill or workshop. I could find a way to instill authentic confidence in girls and women everywhere so they were free to fulfill if not surpass their potential and powerfully contribute to the world. The reality is that I can’t. I don’t have a cure-all that will remove the challenges and obstacles inundating the human experience. No human being for that matter has that ability.

My revelation emerged from a company meeting where a group of us were sitting around chitchatting about nothing really (like girls do). We talked about work, dabbled in politics and circumnavigated the uncharted waters of relationships. That’s when it happened; our conversation about nothing became about everything. We brought up issues of quarreling co-workers, struggles with body image, society’s high expectations, third-world countries and naturally, boys.

Before you knew it, our “business meeting” had transformed into a group of healing listening, compassionate respect and validating patience. There were no epiphanies, or calendar-making breakthroughs. If it were any other day, I would have over looked it completely, but not this time. The light bulb went off and I wondered if all girls had this kind of outlet to be heard and to hear others?

It’s important that even if we don’t have the immediate answers that we are made to feel we’re not alone. There’s comfort in that. There’s fearlessness in knowing you have a crew backing you up, a group of women protecting you and looking out for you. That’s when we realized this tangible community is vital to our existence. If we are going to change this world, if we are going to empower one another and ignite a revolution, it’s going to require that we come together and support one another. If a man chooses to be an island, he can be alone all by himself. I’m not interested in going through life’s safari alone. We’re stronger and more equipped to handle life’s curve balls when we have a whole team out there on the field with us.

So we created local chapters for girls to get plugged in and find other like-minded women out to make a difference in the world. We need an army of women, a dream team of relentless activists who will dedicate one night a week for an hour or so to a group of women who also want to leave this world better than how they found it. We already have chapters in most big cities, but we need more. If there’s one in your hometown, then get involved! If not, start your own.

We meet once a week, provide the content for the meeting, the girls and the space. As little as three members, as big as almost fifty in our San Diego Chapter. Either way, it’s an opportunity for girls to empower other girls. Where women on the same wave length can come together and support one another.

And I get it, you’re busy. We all are. But it’s not for us, it’s for you. You need it, we all do. But better yet, we deserve it in our lives. We deserve taking some time for ourselves once a week and having an outlet to talk about things that matter in this world. We deserve being listened to and having a place to share. I am that girl just launched local chapters to make that a reality. Badass women coming together to change the world. We need you in this revolution, we need your voice and your life’s unique brand. Make it a reality, make you a priority. Get involved, sign up, and start your own. I don’t care what you do, but 2010 is the year for you.

It would be an honor to have you come in the name of i am that girl and share your life’s journey with us. To find out more about our local chapters, or if you want to be a badass and start your own, contact Rosalind Adams at rosalindzoeadams@gmail.com.

Until then, keep rockin’ this world and being That Girl.

alexis jones, empowerment, forum, local, meeting, San Diego, sisterhood Hide

Image courtesy of Womensconference.org

This blog was recently posted on Womensconference.org.

The very tippy, top of my To Do list for 2010 is wildly unusual for me. I normally have the “complete a book, run a marathon, win a Nobel Peace Prize” kind of expectations, but 2010 is the year of being kinder to myself. So my number one priority is simple — loving myself more. I feel like today we’re expected to be Superwomen, and it’s so easy to fall into the trap of unrealistic, unattainable expectations of perfection and the disappointment and self-critique that quickly follow. 

I was recently told that the way we treat ourselves is a direct correlation to the way we treat others. So really, to exercise compassion, patience, unconditional love and forgiveness with myself is to practice for how I treat others. For me that means, a little more giggles and less discipline, a little more chocolate and a little less salad, a little more flirting and a little less work. So, 2010 is about loving myself as is… PERFECTLY FLAWED!

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Alexis: I’m hoping for a roundtrip ticket to India, (a place I’ve been dying to visit for years), a new pair of swim goggles so I can properly train for my triathlon without getting chlorine in my eyes and, naturally, my handsome Prince Charming in a shiny package and bright bow.

Carrie B.: This festive season all I want is a fantastic day of fun and relaxation with my wonderful urban family.

Emily: This Christmas/Chanukah I wish that despite my family being on separate sides of the country, we still feel the same sense of togetherness and love that we always have in the past.

Morgan (in her younger days) at Christmas.

Morgan: A full-time job that still allows me to dedicate myself to iatg, a swanky apartment and much more time with loved ones.

Sophia: I wish for rest, relaxation, and reflection. This past year has been a crazy roller coaster (both good and bad), and a lot of changes are in store for 2010. I can’t wait to go home and share with friends and family everything that has happened in the past year and will happen in the next.

Sarah: My recent move to the sunny skies of L.A., where I remain approximately 600 miles away from my immediate family, means that Christmas and the holiday season are one of the few times in the year when I can spend quality time with everyone I know and love. As always, I am wishing health, happiness and success for my loved ones. I also wish people embrace a more positive outlook as we approach a new decade. This year has been tough for many, but I wish (and hope) that we distance ourselves from the negative forces, and instead welcome the new year with a smile and positivity beaming on our faces.

alexis jones, Carrie Barclay, christmas, Emily, holiday, iatg, Kimberly, Morgan, Sophia Hide