You Are a Badass at Making Money

TO GET RICH
Suggested Money Mantra (say it, write it, feel it, own it):
I love money because I love myself.
Please give at least ten answers to each of the following:
1. Make a list of all the reasons why you deserve money.
2. Make a list of some beautiful things that have happened in this world thanks to money.
3. Make a list of all the awesome things and experiences money will add to your life.
4. Make a list of how you being rich will benefit others.
Please fill in the blank:
I’m grateful to money because ____________________.

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W
CHAPTER 2
WHY YOU AIN’T ROLLIN’ IN THE
CHEDDAH. YET.
hen I was a kid, every so often my parents would get my brothers
and sister and me all dressed up, file us onto a plane, and off we’d
go to visit my dad’s side of the family in his hometown of Naples,
Italy. I have such vivid and random memories of those trips—my first-ever
glass of blood-red orange juice, unthinkably purple and delicious, that I
sipped on the balcony of our hotel room with my bare feet up on the railing.
My grandfather’s giant green parrot, who screamed at us in Italian (In
Italian! A bird!). My Aunt Lucia, greeting us with her arms lifted high over
her head in prehug enthusiasm and the shocking mound of armpit hair thus
revealed, the likes of which I’d never seen on a lady and which was so
terrifyingly obscene to my American sensibilities it was as if she’d greeted
us by spreading her legs in my face.
During one of these trips, when I was around seven years old, my Uncle
Renato took the whole gang out to his favorite seafood restaurant,
someplace overlooking the water with a big patio full of picnic tables. The
horde of Sincero cousins, siblings, aunts, uncles, in-laws, and grandparents
vied for prime placement around two long tables, and by some stroke of
luck, amidst the chaos, I managed to score the most coveted seat of seats,
right next to my dad.
My father was the focal point of everything on these trips, not only
because he was like a celebrity: the dashing eldest son returned home with
his beautiful American wife, proud brood, and successful doctor’s practice,
but mostly because he was the only one who spoke both Italian and English.
Which meant that every time anyone said anything, four long rows of picnic

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benches and twenty sets of eyes were transfixed on him, blinking in eager
hopes of him translating some witticism or anecdote that would allow us to
turn to one another and laugh, nod, and feel that sense of tribe that families
who actually understand what the hell one another is saying feel.
Right after we were seated, the owner or chef or someone important
came up to our table and made a big show of greeting Uncle Renato, who
was clearly a celebrity in his own right, and there was much handshaking
and cheek pinching and benvenuto-ing before the man clapped his hands
together, announced, “Welcome, my frens! I hope you are hangry!” and
disappeared inside the restaurant. Moments later, a steady stream of food
that would continue nonstop for the next four hours began appearing in
front of us.
At some point the waitress brought over a plate that was piled high with
deep-fried circular somethings, and my dad pulled me onto his lap and told
me to try one.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Just try it.”
“Yeah, but what is it?” Instead of telling me, he turned to the rest of the
table, pointed at the plate, and rattled off something in Italian, the only parts
of which I understood were the words “Jennifer,” “mangia,” and the
laughter that ensued. Now there were four rows of picnic benches and
twenty sets of eyes staring at me and this stupid plate of fried circles that I
was suddenly terrified of. My father, in spite of his celebrity status, is a
pretty shy guy, and truth or dare isn’t really his scene, all of which made me
think that whatever was on that plate must be really bad if he was willing to
put on this big a to-do about it.
My mind immediately went to worms. It couldn’t possibly be anything
else. You hear all the time about these foreign countries where they eat
things like tarantulas and eyes and brains, so, of course, some people must
eat worms. I imagined how one could easily make a circle out of a worm,
dip it in batter, and deep-fry it. I mean, what other creature could you do
that with? The answer: Only worms.
As deeply disturbing as this thought was, I hated being teased, and I
hated losing at truth or dare even more, so in front of the entire Sincero
Nation, I popped a mystery circle into my mouth and chewed, gagging and
wincing while waiting for the worm to explode. But much to my surprise,
there were no guts, instead it was more like eating a rubber band—chewy

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and tasteless and dumb. My father then yelled in my face, “It’s squid!” and
everyone erupted in laughter and applause and my Aunt Alberta patted me
on the head and I retreated into a deep, seething blackness of hatred and
humiliation that had me up and bolting for the bathroom in a fit of tears.
I was a kid who liked fish. Had I known the truth about what I was
putting into my mouth I could have avoided the gagging, the drama, and the
scolding I got later that evening for kicking my brother hard in the shin
when he imitated me trying to choke down a worm. Which brings me to the
point of this story:
Our “realities” are make-believe—whatever we make ourselves believe,
we experience.
When it comes to forming, and transforming, our human experience, the
power of the mind reigns supreme over any type of external “truths.” If you
believe money is evil and/or difficult to make, your bank account will have
tumbleweeds blowing through it. Strong religious beliefs inspire everything
from wars to glorious houses of worship to cutthroat charity pie-baking
contests. The belief that you are hot and sexy will have you getting hit on
by strangers on the street. And if you believe you’re eating worms, you will
gag.
There’s a neuroscientist named Vilayanur Ramachandran who uses the
power of belief to help amputees in excruciating pain find relief. Many
people who’ve lost a limb experience what’s called phantom pain—very
real pain sensations in a part of their body that no longer exists. Because the
limb is no longer there, there’s no way for them to massage it or soak it or
do anything to relieve the pain—hello how freaking torturous is that?
Through the use of mirrors, Ramachandran reflects the image of a
patient’s existing limb to where the missing limb used to be, so it appears
that the missing limb is no longer missing. Then, if they’re missing an arm,
for example, they move their existing arm, unclench their hand, relieve the
tension however they can, and the mind is tricked into believing that this is
happening to the missing arm and the pain disappears. By making the mind

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believe that the nonexistent exists, he is able to help his patients change
their physical reality.
Your external world is a mirror of your internal world.
If you can make yourself believe the thoughts that are screwing up your
financial life, i.e., I can’t make money because of X (I’m a single mom, I live
in the middle of nowhere, I’m an idiot, etc.), you can make yourself
unbelieve them too. This is how powerful we are and how deceptively
simple changing our lives is—we can literally create the reality we desire
by making ourselves think and believe what we desire to think and believe.
How awesome is that?!
Our beliefs, along with our thoughts and words, are at the root of
everything we experience in life, which is why consciously choosing what
rolls around in your mind and falls out of your mouth is one of the most
important things you can do. This conscious choosing of your thoughts,
beliefs, and words is called mastering your mindset, and master it you must
if you’d like to live large and in charge instead of being bossed around by
your circumstances.
Here’s the lowdown on how your mindset works.
BELIEFS
When it comes to money, most people feel like their beliefs are in pretty
good shape: Hell yes, I will gladly let you give me money all day long, thank
you very much—here, I just so happen to have a bag for you to put it in! But
what they don’t realize is that this is their conscious mind talking, and that
deep down we all have our subconscious mind, which is the motherboard
that controls all of our results. And if mama ain’t happy, ain’t nobody
happy, so no matter how much you may think you’re all about the money in
your conscious mind, if your subconscious believes that you will get cut off
from all family gatherings if you get rich because as a kid that’s what you

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saw your jealous grandfather do to your dad when he got rich, you ain’t
gonna be rollin’ in it anytime soon. Here’s why: