Back when I worked in real estate, during my first month, EVERYONE in the real estate office was SO NICE to me. I had all of these new “friends.” Coffee dates. Lunch invitations. Everyone wanted to grab guacamole and be my bestie.
And then… I started selling a lot of real estate.
The same people who were SO NICE before started giving me the cold shoulder. No more lunch invitations. No more “How was your weekend?” chit-chat. I was excluded from the clique. Ice wall.
I went into my managers’s office in tears. I was like, “Did I do something wrong? It’s like all of a sudden, I have the plague.”
And he said, “You didn’t do anything wrong. You were a cute friend before. Now you are competition. They didn’t expect you to outsell them.”
I decided, “If these people don’t want me to succeed, and if these people only ‘like’ me when I’m unsuccessful and unthreatening, then they’re not true friends at all. I am not going to hold myself back because it upsets them. Hell naw. FUCK THAT.”
Over the years, this same pattern comes up in every arena…
Who does she think she is to talk about money like that?
Who does she think she is to dress like that?
Who does she think she is to let her kid dye her head half purple?
Who does she think she is to travel without her family?
I could go on, and on and on.
And that’s the question, isn’t it?
Who do I think I am?
Who do you think you are?
We have to answer that, or other people will answer for us and we will live by their definition and not our own.
Who am I?
I am unapologetically ambitious. I make seven figures a year. I play big. I give back. I started a college scholarship fund for young entrepreneurs this year. I raise my kids to be adventurous and brave. I wear tiny bikinis and show off the stretch marks on my tummy. I work out every day. I take booty pics and post them online because heyyyyy, it’s my body and I can do what I want. I’ve rented a whole damn European castle not once but SEVERAL times for SEVERAL events. I have a lot of stamps in my Passport. I have a lot of memories in my heart. I am strong and happy and outspoken and I enjoy my 40-something-year-old body, which threatens a lot of people. I am A LOT. Some might even say, TOO MUCH. I love being too much. And I’m not even finished yet. There’s so much more to come…
Let’s be TOO MUCH together because it makes life way more fun.
TOO MUCH is all I ever wanna be.
PS. When you’re part of my squad, success is not a dirty word. If you have a victory that you want to share with me—you hit a sales goal, you just published your first blog post, you dropped the toxic friend, you rocked a tank top on the beach instead of covering up—send an email to firstname.lastname@example.org and shout all about it. My team and I would LOVE to hear about your victory and we’ll send some congratulations your way. Tell me all about your wonderful, fabulous TOO MUCH-ness. <3