Fueled by Spite and Sparkles: How I Built My Empire One ‘Watch This’ at a Time

How many times have you been knocked down?

Told you’re not good enough?

Told you’re too loud, too wild, too much?

Told you’ll never make it?

And made to believe you are not worthy.

This series is for every time I was shut out, knocked down, and made to feel unworthy.

And spoiler alert: I didn’t stay down.

Episode One: I’m Pregnant

Let’s start at the beginning… Normal kid. I grew up in a divorced home, youngest of five in a blended family. Plenty of cracks to fall through, but I refused to disappear. I was loud, competitive, and always ready to prove I could do it better. Not in a sporty way. More like, “Oh, you think you’re good at that? Hold my beer and watch this.” (It’s a Midwest thing)

And then… sixteen-year-old me got pregnant.

FUCK

Before I continue, let me just say that I have an amazing support system, but I did not always have the best support system…there were so many people pissed off at me. Ha well “us” ya know cause, it takes two to tango, and that is exactly what I had to tell my father, so he didn’t beat the fuck out of my boyfriend at the time.

We’ll start with my mom…. she honestly is the best! I love her so much and owe her so much. She was everything during this moment. I’ll never forget sitting her down in her “dad chair” and saying, “Mom, I’m pregnant.” She stared at me, silent, for what seemed way too long. Then asked, “Do you know what you’re going to do?” She gave me options. She gave me love. She gave me safety. Even though I know her heart was breaking, she never let me feel alone.

When I make my first million, she’s getting the biggest thank-you of my life.

My dad? Different story. I didn’t even get to tell him—my sister went and ran her mouth to him. He was furious. We barely spoke during my pregnancy. Looking back, I kinda wish he had kicked my boyfriend’s ass—not for the pregnancy, but for all the shit he’d put me through later. But that’s a story for another time.

OMG and don’t even get me started on his family.

Everyone was pissed. And everyone had a fuckin option.

“What are you going to do?”

“You’re just a kid.”

“You’ll be another statistic.”

“You’ll drop out.”

“You’ll live off the government.”

“You’ll never have a real career.”,

And then his mom shipped him off to California. Left me alone. Pregnant. Sixteen.

WTF, lady.

Also, I was active in the very cultish group known as Jobs Daughters, (iykyk.) They kicked out. My youth group iced me out.Walking through school felt like walking through fire.Dirty looks. Whispered insults. “Whore.” “Slut.” The name of the game was slut shamming for me. Rude!

I wanted to cry every day.

I didn’t.

Their hate fueled me. Their judgment lit a fire in my chest. Every insult was a spark. Every side-eye was a challenge. I wasn’t going to be a statistic. I was going to be a fucking force.

I graduated high school a semester early. Moved to New York. (and then back and then to Oklahoma, and then back again. Again, more stories to come)Raised my son alone. I didn’t go to college, but I built a six-figure life. No financial help and no emotional support from his father. Just me, my son, and a whole lot of spite and sparkle. (P.S. He has the same spite and sparkle.)

I’ve built businesses.

I’ve launched products.

I’ve created events that empower others.

And built a brand that screams authenticity.

I’ve turned every “you can’t” into “watch this.”

I’ve turned every breakdown into a breakthrough.

I’ve turned every insult into income.

And I’m still rising.

So here’s the truth:

Life isn’t fair. People will doubt you. They’ll whisper. They’ll judge.

Let them.

Let their doubt be your gasoline.

Let their judgment be your launchpad.

Let their “you can’t” become your “watch this.”

You don’t need permission.

You need fire.

You need grit.

And you need your people—the ones who see your magic even when you’re covered in chaos.

So go build your empire. One “fuck you” at a time. One sparkle at a time. One “watch this” at a time.

You’ve got this. And if no one’s clapping for you yet—clap for your damn self, you magical badass!