This time last year, I was folding panties and meticulously arranging them by color, only for a 14-year-old girl (or a 57-year-old woman) to come and rummage through and destroy my hard work six minutes later.
I was miserable, doubtful of my purpose, and ready to throw in the towel. For months, I took time to learn everything there was about bras and panties, because I was gunning for a promotion at my part-time turned full-time job at Victoria's Secret. After spending weeks kissing ass and perfectly folding all of the underwear I could get my hands on, my managers overlooked me for the promotion and offered the position to someone with no experience.
Depressed and hopeless, I sought help from a very successful friend, who advised me to start a journal, and use it like I would Instagram. He told me to record in it everything I wanted for my life. I obliged, and one of the items on my list was, "Get paid to write."
Shortly after Christmas, I developed a cyst at the top of my ass crack, which left me on bedrest for a month, and unable to fold panties for the man. I was devastated and heavily relied on my parents to pay my bills during that time.
This is why I went to school for four years? I feel like such a failure. Why even bother?
After I snapped out of my one-woman pity party and let my nuts drop, and picked my pride up off the floor. On the couch, sprawled out, in pain and desperate, I applied to xoNecole.com for the third time. Shortly after, I was invited to come onboard as a freelance contributor. Over time, I became a daily writer, and only a few months after my start date, I was promoted to staff and named editorial assistant.
I'm writing this not to flaunt my come-up, but to let you know that you can come up too, girl. I'm literally living my vision board, but there were some steps I had to take to get here, and here's what they were: