What Cane’s Chicken Taught Me About Product Design

I spent last night and this morning finishing up the final prototype of the Lap Vanity. I was so excited to see all the hard work and dedication from the last few months finally come to life. I was ready to use her, ready to begin manufacturing, and finally start shipping orders!

After hours of drilling in screws, attaching hinges, and carefully inserting the mirror, I realized something that made my heart sink: I needed to do another round of prototyping. There were still a few minor imperfections I couldn’t ignore. Normally, that wouldn’t be a huge deal—but I’m supposed to start shipping next week. And if I’m being completely honest…I was so ready to be done and move on to the next phase.

That might sound selfish, but let me explain. It took me two full years just to get to the first prototype—a simple foldable table with no mirror, no legs, nothing. And these past six months? I’ve been hustling non-stop: designing, engineering, and building nonstop. I’ve been running on little sleep, eating fast food because I haven’t had time to cook, and pouring every ounce of energy I have into this project. And while I do love parts of the process, this journey has been exhausting. I’m tired. But if the Lap Vanity requires more from me, then so be it.

A couple of months ago, I started a newsletter to bring the amazing women who pre-ordered the Lap Vanity along for the ride. Since the process was taking longer than expected, I decided to send daily updates to help them understand what was going on behind the scenes. And it worked—building that transparency turned delays into trust. Just last week, I sent out an email saying they would finally get their tracking numbers by the end of this week. I was so happy, because I felt like I could finally reward them for their incredible patience.

But after days of printing (each part takes about 4 hours), sanding with help from my little sisters, hand painting, adding a glossy finish, and installing the mirror—I found a few problems. The screws need to be slightly larger to support the mirror’s weight. And the custom-built hinges? They keep breaking.

Now keep in mind, I’m currently using PLA filament for the prototypes. But the final Lap Vanity will be made from carbon fiber nylon, which is up to 200% stronger than PLA. So technically, the final product should be totally fine. But I gave myself a rule: the Lap Vanity must work flawlessly in PLA first—because if it works in PLA, then it will be phenomenal in carbon fiber nylon. I don’t want this product to depend on premium materials to be excellent. The material should be the sauce, not the main dish.

And speaking of sauce, let me explain something I always say: No shade to Cane’s, but I don’t get the hype. The chicken is dry and only tastes decent with the sauce. If I’m eating something, it needs to be amazing without the sauce. The sauce should also be amazing. Then—when you combine them—it’s this unimaginable explosion of flavor. That’s the energy I want for the Lap Vanity.

The structure should be incredible on its own. The material? Strong, lightweight, durable. The aesthetics? Head-turningly unique. Mix it all together, and you get a product rooted in love, excellence, and luxury.

Now, if you like Cane’s, eat your Cane’s! This isn’t that deep. I’m just using it as an analogy to explain something that is deeply important to me: delivering an excellent product—especially for those with disabilities.

The long wait to finish the Lap Vanity has honestly made me feel really guilty. I keep thinking, “Who wants to wait this long for something they spent their hard-earned money on?” It makes me feel like the customer service sucks. But I have to remind myself: taking the extra time to make sure the Lap Vanity is truly excellent is actually an act of integrity. And I’m proud of myself for not letting money be the center of this process.

Because when the Lap Vanity finally meets my expectations… I know it’ll be worth every second.