The Luck I Didn’t See at First

When I repeated genetic testing during my most recent IVF cycle, I expected it to be uneventful. I’d already done it before; it felt like just another box to check. But then the results came back: I carry an ATM gene mutation, which puts me at about a 20% lifetime risk of breast cancer.

It was one of those moments where the room doesn’t spin, exactly, but everything suddenly feels sharper. Clearer. Heavier. I had been focused on getting through another retrieval, another transfer… and now here I was, learning I’d need a mammogram and breast ultrasound every year, plus a breast MRI six months in between. Not someday. Not “after 40.” Now.

What made it even harder to process was that it didn’t feel abstract. One of my best friends died of breast cancer at 31. I watched her fight. I watched how fast it moved. I watched how young she was. So reading the word risk wasn’t just informational; it felt like someone tapping on a bruise I’d spent years protecting. 

And yet, life didn’t pause. I was running a business, managing a household, juggling calendars and deadlines. There’s something surreal about learning you need ongoing surveillance in the middle of answering work emails.

But here’s what I’ve settled into: this isn’t a sentence. It’s a roadmap. Knowing my risk means I get to do something. Not everything, but something. I can monitor, ask questions, stay ahead, and refuse to pretend this isn’t hard while still moving forward.

And while the screenings are another layer to an already full life, they’re also a lifeline — a way to stay ahead of something that once blindsided someone I loved.

I didn’t choose this knowledge, but I feel pretty damn lucky to be able to decide what I do with it.

Ask Clara:

"What to know about cancer in women under 40"

Proof That “Good Enough” Can Still Be Good

If I posted a photo of my new “home gym” on Instagram, I could absolutely fool you. I’d angle the shot just right so the lighting hits my dumbbells at a flattering angle, crop out the chaos, maybe even toss on a filter for good measure. You’d probably think, Wow, she’s really got it together.

But if you zoomed out even an inch, you’d see the truth: the other half of my garage is a jumble of bikes, scooters, soccer balls, and whatever random kid treasures have migrated there. There are holes in the walls, dust on the floor, and a general vibe of “this was never meant to be a gym,” because… it wasn’t. It’s a garage.

That’s what you might see.

What I see is very different. I see a small corner of my life that doesn’t belong to anyone else — no toys, no laundry piles, no one asking me where their water bottle went. It’s not fancy, but it’s quiet. It’s mine. And for thirty to forty minutes a day, that’s enough.

I’ve always been someone who prioritizes movement, but working from home changed the game. Suddenly, I was living, parenting, and working all in the same few rooms. I didn’t need perfect conditions to work out; I just needed a place that wasn’t tied to everyone else’s needs. A place where my brain could switch gears the second I stepped inside.

So no, it’s not influencer-worthy. But it’s real, and it works, and it gives me a tiny pocket of breathing room in a very full house. And maybe that’s the real win: not the gym itself, but finally letting “good enough” be the bar.

Ask Clara:

"Why does moving your body help your mood so much?"

FDA Said “Actually, She’s Fine.”

I recently listened to a friend — a brilliant, informed, healthy 39-year-old — hesitate to start hormone replacement therapy for perimenopause because of “the breast cancer risk.” A myth she’d held for years. A myth millions of women have carried for decades. And it made me realize: we think we know better, but sometimes… we don’t.

I jumped in (obviously), but what if I hadn’t? How many women walk away believing the same story, passed down by headlines, fear, and misread science? That story has shaped and limited women’s health for over twenty years.

The Women’s Health Initiative study of the early 2000s was wildly misinterpreted. It triggered a 70% drop in HRT use, left a generation of clinicians unsure about prescribing it, and forced countless women to silently endure hot flashes, sleepless nights, mood swings, and the strange feeling that their own bodies were betraying them. Mothers, daughters, sisters, friends stepping back when their bodies wouldn’t let them step forward.

So when the FDA announced they were removing the black box warning from vaginal estrogen this week, it felt, and truly is, historic. Finally, a long-overdue correction. A chance for women to reclaim clarity, confidence, and care that has been clouded by outdated fear for far too long.

Of course, HRT isn’t a free pass (timing, dosage, and personal medical history all matter), but having the right information, without a sensationalized warning label, is the first step toward making decisions that actually fit our lives.

For once, it feels like women’s health is catching up to the women themselves: listening, learning, and finally treating us as the nuanced, complicated, formidable humans we are.

Ask Clara:

"What is hormone replacement therapy?"

Is Wellness Culture Killing Fun?

The other night, I started to feel a little bit of that seasonal depression kicking in.

It’s getting dark earlier. My entire family has been sick on and off for about two months. My husband and I haven’t been on a date night in probably that same amount of time. The house was a mess. You know the drill.

I hadn’t had a drink in, like, eight days (but who’s counting?!) and felt weirdly guilty about indulging in a glass of wine after such a “good run.” But I did. And honestly? I felt immediately better.

I’m not pushing mommy-wine culture, trust me. But in a country where mothers are largely unsupported and constantly told what they should be doing to optimize their physical, mental, and emotional health, I want to say this: it’s okay to have the occasional cocktail — especially if all that “wellness” is coming at the expense of joy.

Whenever I tell my husband that drinking isn’t healthy, he says, “Neither is stress.” And he’s right. Life isn’t always about discipline. Sometimes filling your cup means having a beer with your partner after a long day, or celebrating a friend’s promotion instead of hitting the gym.

It made me wonder: are we overthinking wellness to the point that we’ve squeezed out all the fun? When did trying to feel good turn into trying to do good? When did a glass of wine, a Diet Coke, or skipping strength training become a moral failing?

Maybe it’s not that we’ve lost control. Maybe we’ve just lost the plot — forgetting that feeling good is part of being well in the first place.

Ask Clara:

"What is seasonal affective disorder?"

The Books That Take Us Back

“You know how you can remember exactly when and where you read certain books? A great novel, a truly great one, not only captures a particular fictional experience, it alters and intensifies the way you experience your own life while you’re reading it. And it preserves it, like a time capsule.” ~Lily King, Heart the Lover

If you’re new here, you may not know that I spent nearly a decade working in book publishing at Penguin Random House. And while I absolutely love what I do now (or else I wouldn’t be here, writing this), I’ll admit: if I weren’t running Rescripted, I’d probably still be there, talking books, trading early galleys over coffee, and selling stories that linger long after the cover is closed.

This past weekend, I finished Heart the Lover, and it was the first time in a while that a book truly captivated me — that unputdownable kind of read that swallows whole afternoons. I was instantly transported back to my early twenties, when my relationship at the time felt like the only thing that mattered.

Reading it felt like walking down memory lanes I didn’t know were still paved. The narrator (unnamed until the end) meets two brilliant classmates, Sam and Yash, in her senior year of college. They call her “Jordan,” invite her into their electric world of late-night card games and 17th-century lit debates, and the triangle ignites.

What stayed with me was how our younger selves make decisions that ripple across decades. Jordan dates Sam but falls for Yash; years pass, she becomes a writer and a mother, and the past comes roaring back. The heartbreak, the longing, the what-ifs, they all remind us that who we were quietly shapes who we become. 

The Guardian called the novel “a long, tender farewell to youth,” and I can’t think of a better description. Because that’s the thing about getting older: our choices shape our fate, yes, but two things can be true at once. We can move forward and still feel the tug of the selves we used to be.

Ask Clara:

"Can reading positively impact your mental health?"

When Skin Trends Go Too Far

This week, the FDA issued a safety alert that made me pause mid-scroll. Radiofrequency (RF) microneedling devices — tiny needles that deliver heat under the skin to “tighten” or “rejuvenate” — have apparently been linked to serious complications: burns, scarring, fat loss, nerve damage, and disfigurement. Some people have even needed surgery afterward. The FDA is still investigating, but they’re urging anyone affected to report problems.

Browsing through TikTok, I saw why this matters. People were sharing their experiences, faces burned, scarred, and swelling after procedures they thought were low-risk. One creator held her cheek like it had been through a war zone. Another mentioned it took her more than two years to recover. A doctor explained that RF microneedling is a medical procedure, not a spa treatment or at-home hack. Tiny needles plus heat can go wrong fast if used incorrectly.

It reminded me how easy it is to conflate trending with safe. Social media makes even risky treatments look harmless, fun, or “worth a try.” But these are real bodies, real pain, and for some, real consequences.

The takeaway? Ask questions. Know the risks. Seek care from trained professionals. And if something goes wrong, report it. The FDA’s MedWatch program lets patients share details online, by mail, or fax, helping prevent others from being harmed. Your experience matters.

Watching those videos, I realized this isn’t just about skincare; it’s about respecting our bodies and our boundaries, even when society tells us we should optimize them with the next shiny trend. It begs the question: how do you decide which beauty or wellness hacks are worth the risk, and which ones you step back from? 

Ask Clara: How do you know which skincare trends are safe?

Friendship Is a Rising Tide

"A rising tide lifts all boats."

Someone said that to me in the early days of Rescripted, and it stuck.

Something to know about me: I’m a girl’s girl to my core. Maybe once, in middle school, I claimed, “I just get along better with guys” (didn’t we all?). But by high school, my girlfriends were my lifelines. Cheerleading, softball, musical theatre — it was never just about winning or performing; it was about the inside jokes, the post-practice hangouts, and that feeling of belonging.

The thing about girlhood is that it teaches you early on what really matters: showing up for each other. Every day, it becomes clearer to me that we should be celebrating our friends not just for the big, ‘expected’ milestones like marriage or babies, but for the quieter, courageous moments: leaving a bad relationship, running a marathon, starting a new business, or taking a leap they’ve been scared to take.

Cheering for each other in those moments is the heart of friendship, the kind that carries you through messy breakups, toddler meltdowns, job changes, and all the unexpected twists and turns of your 30s. 

That’s why I love the idea of a “rising tide.” When one of us wins, we all win. When someone takes a step forward, it makes the path a little bit wider for everyone else. Life is bigger than any single rivalry, and there’s (quite literally) room for all of us. Because life, like friendship, like girlhood, isn’t a zero-sum game.

Ask Clara: How often is women's pain ignored?

Some of Us Are Hiding in the Bathroom

Yesterday, one of my colleagues (squarely on the cusp of Gen Z and Millennial, so I took it with a grain of salt) recommended a "personal growth" podcast to me. So naturally, I did what any curious, overstimulated millennial mom does: I opened Apple Podcasts and started scrolling. One episode caught my eye: “I’m in my early 30s — here are a few things I’m still learning.”

Now, I looove a self-reflective queen. But I’ll admit, I almost immediately rolled my eyes. Not because I’m against introspection, but because lately it feels like everywhere I turn, someone is telling me the five things they’ve learned, or the seven things I need to be doing for my health and wellness. Meanwhile, I’m just trying to sneak to the bathroom without an audience.

You’re telling me about your ten-step skincare routine; I’m just proud I remembered deodorant.

I hate to say it, but the sentiment that “we all have the same 24 hours” simply isn’t true. Not when you have tiny humans depending on you for everything from snacks to emotional regulation. And yet, we keep being fed this narrative that if we just optimized a little harder, meditated a little longer, or journaled a little deeper, we’d finally “have it all together.”

This weekend, I read (almost) an entire book while my baby napped, and it reminded me that rest can be productive, and that stealing small moments of joy is just as important as checking things off a to-do list. Maybe we don’t need another list of lessons or morning routines. Maybe we just need to give ourselves permission to pause, and in that pause, remember who we really are.

Ask Clara: Why is sleep important for women's health?

Four Kinds of PCOS (And Why That Feels Hopeful)

I’ve had PCOS for as long as I can remember. My periods have never been regular — sometimes showing up after 60 days, sometimes not at all — and acne was a constant companion through my teens and twenties. But unlike many women with PCOS, I don’t have insulin resistance and was never prescribed metformin. My version never quite fit the “textbook” description.

This week, researchers from Karolinska Institutet published a major study in Nature Medicine that might finally explain why. After analyzing data from nearly 12,000 women across multiple countries, they identified four distinct PCOS subgroups, each with its own hormonal and metabolic profile.

There’s HA-PCOS, marked by high androgen levels (think acne and abnormal blood lipids); OB-PCOS, linked to higher BMI and insulin resistance; SHBG-PCOS, a milder form with fewer fertility problems; and LH-PCOS, characterized by elevated luteinizing hormone and AMH, often causing complications during IVF.

It’s the first time researchers have clearly shown that PCOS isn’t just one condition; it’s a spectrum. That might sound like a small distinction, but for the millions of us living with it, it’s huge. It means treatment can finally move from trial-and-error to something more personalized, based on how our bodies actually work.

For me, it’s validating to know my version of PCOS, the one that explains my acne but not the insulin resistance, has a name. It doesn’t change everything overnight, but it feels like the beginning of better answers. 

Ask Clara: How is PCOS diagnosed?

I Am Large; I Contain Multitudes

This week, I went on my first business trip in two years (I was pregnant and had a baby, so there’s that). Historically, I’ve been one of those type B travelers who snoozes her alarm and cuts it way too close at the airport. I know some of you are already cringing — and yes, that includes my husband, who believes one should arrive at JFK approximately seven hours before takeoff.

But this time was different. Maybe it was the anxiety of leaving all three kids at home for the first time, but I was up before my 4:50 a.m. alarm, fully dressed, and through security with time to spare. I even had Starbucks in hand before the sun came up. Who was this person?

That question lingered all week. At the conference, I found myself toggling between two versions of me: the confident co-founder who loves connecting with people, and the quieter one who sneaks back to the hotel room for a breather before the next event. Both felt true.

On the flight home, I listened to Amy Poehler’s podcast with Kate McKinnon, who now lives on a quiet rural property, gardens, has taken up woodwork, and prefers small circles to big crowds. I thought, “One of my all-time favorite SNL cast members, a homebody?” And somehow, it made perfect sense.

It reminded me of Walt Whitman’s line, “I am large; I contain multitudes.” Lately, that feels truer than ever. Despite what our Myers-Briggs results or horoscopes might tell us, this season of life is teaching me that we don’t have to pick just one version of ourselves.

Life isn’t meant to be predictable, and maybe that’s the part that makes it worth paying attention to.

Ask Clara: Why is laughter good for the soul?