The Last Will and Testament of a Woman Who Got Mixed Up in Several MLM Schemes

We’ll miss her trying to sell us her bunion healing elixirs.

To my husband who supported me through countless new opportunities and endeavors; I bequeath three credit cards that have been maxed out, a credit line I used for “business purposes” and a second mortgage I never got around to mentioning. While I’m aware that you already have a full-time corporate job, hopefully the stock of quality products from that knife company, numerous nutrition, beauty, and home brands, children’s books and storage containers will not only help you pay off your bills, but will also allow you to come into your own and tap into your inner entrepreneur! Love you, hon!

To my twin sister who I haven’t spoken to in person for a year after she became irrationally jealous over my new business ventures and refused to even talk about them in conversations with me, who tried to warn me over social media that using peppermint oil extract to cure my pneumonia wasn’t going to work; I hereby bequeath my entire collection of essential oils. It turned out that you might have been right.

To my best friend since seventh grade, who I haven’t made the time to see in months who I messaged out of the blue last week to ask if she wanted a three pairs of leggings for only $120 so I could pay my mounting medical bills; I hereby bequeath fifty pairs of polyester/spandex blend stretch pants in a garish peach and blue geometric pattern. Thank you for being there for me when Grams died.

To the 20-something woman in the condo below mine who recently broke up with her live-in boyfriend and wears an old Evanescence t-shirt every day, who I cornered in our shared driveway to see if you would like to buy some eyeliner for half price; I hereby bequeath my entire demo pack of half-used mascara, eyeliner, and lipstick samples and several barely used foundations. You may want to sanitize the makeup brushes and I’m sorry if my coughing kept you up at night.

To the mom of Jake, who I met briefly at the playground, exchanged phone numbers with, met for a glass of wine, and spoke with intimately about motherhood for two hours before pitching a skin care product that may worsen acne in 20% of users; I hereby bequeath ten containers of “Ultra Magic Skin Clearing Elixir with Natural Lavender Extract.” I am sorry that you and your husband have slept in separate bedrooms for the past year and thank you for the water when you noticed I was having trouble breathing from the phlegm.

To the barista at my coffee shop who seemed frustrated by the combination of a Masters in English and a lack of career direction outside of the occasional freelancing success, but who I thought would really slay it as a #bosslady of her own business; I hereby bequeath my remaining stock of women’s daily supplements containing over thirty-five individual natural vitamins and minerals. You made a kick-ass almond macchiato no-whip, and the haiku you wrote on the side of my cup that one time brought me to tears. I hope they read it at my funeral.

To the new mom I found on a babysitting website during a slow month for sales, who I noticed had developed postpartum hair loss, inspiring me to pitch a hair care system that would assist her in regrowing voluminous, healthy and bouncy hair; I bequeath ninety bottles of “Shine Time, Pro-Nourishment Healthy Bounce Hair Care Shampoo.” I am sorry for the insensitive remarks I made, and you likely could have hid the missing patch of hair with bangs. Please don’t bring your baby to my funeral.

To the girl I met briefly in a college study group who I friended on Facebook and never interacted with except to tag in a post about an amazing new business opportunity with health shakes for moms after seeing that you were on maternity leave; I hereby bequest my “Healthy Mean Green” kickstarter pack with over 10 different flavor samples, all made from 100% real fruits and vegetables. You would have made a wonderful downline.

Finally, to the woman whose name I didn’t catch, who gave up her seat on the train while I was coughing uncontrollably, who I could tell had the perfect fingernails to model nail decals; I bequeath a storage unit full of nail wraps in all the colors of the rainbow. Even though the company has shut down, and I’m dead now, I feel confident that somehow they’ll do right by me and offer my poor husband a sliver of your sales. Never stop hustling.