Blog 2: Addicated to the chase of my happiness
I loved the Gold Coast, but something inside me didn’t quite feel right anymore. I stayed single after the breakup with Trent—focusing on my career and more determined than ever. I poured my energy into building Embody Beauty’s reputation in the industry, trying to break into the medical field with our skin needling device. My business mind had kicked in. I was starting to realise that I actually loved selling—sales was becoming my niche.
I was living with friends in Mudgeeraba, most evenings, I’d be locked in my bedroom, working on business plans and marketing strategies for the ideas swirling in my head. My dad (my biggest supporter), used to joke that I should go on Shark Tank. I always lived a pretty healthy lifestyle—running every morning, hitting the gym after work. Green smoothies were my staple diet, until the weekend, when I’d generally bender until Sunday afternoon, I was always up for a good time, then I’d start the health kick all over again come Monday morning. Looking back, a vicious cycle, but fun, none the less.
One idea I was obsessed with was drying fruits and vegetables, blending them into flavours, and packaging them into small sachets—an instant smoothie concept. Sound familiar? I had a full business strategy—financial forecast, branding, marketing plan, everything mapped out. I even went to Kmart and bought a fruit dryer to start drying and blending my flavours.
But I quickly realised that chopping, drying, and blending fruit and vegetable mixes wasn’t exactly a lucrative business venture. So, I searched for a company on the Sunshine Coast called MoreLife, who blended dried fruits. I arranged to meet Brent, the owner, to pitch my idea. He was gracious enough to listen, and I could tell he liked my tenacity.
I had my business plan on paper, and Brent cut me a deal—sent me an invoice for three different flavoured blends, packaged into sachets, with 10 per box. Each blend would cost $30,000 to produce. A total of $90,000—just for the blends. I still had to consider branding, marketing, a website, distribution, storage.... and everything else it takes to startup a business.
At this point, I didn’t have a spare dollar to my name. My parents couldn’t help, and the banks rejected my loan applications. My dreams were crushed. It was 2009, and although I didn’t know it then, those Powdered Smoothie Sachets would eventually become a staple in the health and wellness industry— disappointed that I couldn’t carry the idea into reality but it wasn’t my destiny.
After reading The Secret, I became obsessed with the universal law of attraction. I devoured self-help books, practiced yoga, worked on my spirituality, and dedicated myself to manifesting and cultivating gratitude. I did everything I could to expand my knowledge, grow, evolve, and create a better life for myself. I was a self-development junkie.
I attended Tony Robbins and Gabby Bernstein seminars with my sister, Shelley. Over the years, I became so committed to personal growth that it was embedded into every part of my daily life. I was addicted to the pursuit of happiness—addicted to change, addicted to finding freedom and sovereignty.
At 26, I was ready to start a new chapter—desperate to have my own business and finally call myself an entrepreneur. I loved my repping job, but honestly, I was making more money working in a salon, hitting my KPIs every month. I was bored of the travel, and I longed to work for myself—be my own boss.
That’s when I met Claire Liccardo. We met at Broadbeach’s famous Moo Moo’s restaurant—she was a true Gold Coast socialite. In her 50s, divorced, with two girls. She looked pristine—always dressed to perfection, filled to the brim with Botox, tits bigger than basketballs—a classic Gold Coast cougar. She oozed glamour and wealth. Her Instagram was a highlight reel of her travels, designer dresses, and nights out at the most luxe spots on the coast. She was everything I wanted to be.
Claire owned a company called Cosmetic Holidays International. She organised trips every month, taking groups of women to Thailand for plastic surgery. It sounded like a dream job—traveling the world, socialising with the best, and living a glamorous and empowering lifestyle. I knew I’d be perfect for it. I had great people skills, a compassionate and caring nature, a background in beauty and cosmetics, and a sharp business mind.
Travel for work, make my own hours, and hang out with Gold Coast’s elite? Yes, please. Claire had franchised the business and sold it to me like it was the ultimate gift to women—an escape from the ordinary, a chance to look years younger, and a ticket into the Gold Coast’s elite social scene. All I needed was a low upfront fee—$35,000—plus mentoring and support from Claire herself. Basically, my dreams had all come true.
We met multiple times to discuss the ins and outs of the business. Most often at Moo Moo’s, where she was clearly well connected. Sometimes, we met at her ‘office’ in Bundall, which I later found out was just a rented commercial space for meetings and consultations. I spoke to my parents about the opportunity. I’m still not entirely sure how they felt, but my persuasive personality, sales pitch, and intense desire to own my own business convinced them it was a good idea. All I needed from them was the deposit.
My parents didn’t have spare cash, but Dad trusted my ideas so much that he signed the agreement as a guarantor—using their house as security. Looking back, that was a dangerous move. After signing the contract and handing over $20,000 from the bank loan, I met Claire again at her Bundall office. Not long after I signed the contract, a strange, heavy feeling took over me. My intuition kicked in—it was like a punch to the gut.
I left the building with Claire, and for the first time, she left with me. We took the elevator down to the lobby, and I headed toward my car—my little 2000 Suzuki Swift Sports, orange with black racing stripes. Dale always used to say, “Your car must go faster with those racing stripes,” his car was a sleek Audi.
As I went to get in my car, I turned to see Claire jumping into her beat-up old Silver Holden Astra—parked in the CEO space. And in that moment, something inside me died. I thought, “She’s driving a shitter car than mine.”
I called my mum, panicking. “Mum, I’ve signed the contract, but something’s not right.” I told her about Claire’s car, probably thinking I was overreacting, but she believed me. Deep down, I knew I’d made a huge mistake.
It wasn’t just the car, or the superficial glamour, that unsettled me. It was my intuition—an unmistakable sign that the universe was trying to tell me something. Why was this wealthy, glamorous woman, who dined at the best restaurants and seemed to embody success, driving a car worse than mine? A lesson I learnt too far along in business, was to trust my intuition. Now, 15 years on, I make big decisions based on my intuition and I trust it deeply, knowing I am guided by a higher power.
What happened in the following weeks is something you could only read about.