Did anyone else notice how Meghan’s finger repeatedly covered the camera lens? We’re supposed to believe that someone who spent years as an actress, had professional photographers at her wedding, received media training, and is known for micromanaging her image doesn’t know how to hold a phone properly? This is the same woman who positioned herself perfectly during the Queen’s funeral procession to ensure her single tear was captured on camera. What we’re seeing is a calculated attempt at appearing spontaneous.
Meghan’s entire brand is built around this illusion: Look at me, I’m just like you! I make silly camera mistakes! I eat banana splits for breakfast!. This is classic Meghan 101—playing the role of the everyday woman while carefully curating every move for the public eye.
Now, let’s talk about this supposed bestie, Kelly McKee Zajfen. Notice how every person in Meghan’s orbit emerges at the exact moment she needs them for a PR push? Kelly, who tragically lost her son in 2022, has suffered an unimaginable loss, and my heart truly goes out to her. But the way Meghan has positioned herself as Kelly’s emotional support system—publicly—raises questions.
Remember that gushing Instagram post Kelly made, calling Meghan an incredible friend and mother? It reads almost as if it were drafted by a PR firm. Compare this to the Princess of Wales, Catherine, who quietly visits bereaved parents through her charity work—without Instagram stories or Netflix cameras documenting her compassion. True kindness doesn’t need an audience.
Speaking of Netflix, isn’t it interesting how Kelly appeared in With Love, Meghan? Every friendship in Meghan’s world eventually becomes content. Every relationship seems transactional. That’s why she has burned through so many friendships over the years—from childhood friends to former Suits co-stars. Only a select few remain, those who still serve a purpose in her carefully crafted narrative.
Let’s talk about this banana split breakfast. Walnuts, raspberries, and blueberries—how revolutionary! This isn’t about sharing a nice moment. It’s yet another attempt at lifestyle branding. Meghan desperately wants to position herself as the next Gwyneth Paltrow or Martha Stewart, presenting herself as a domestic goddess and tastemaker.
Remember the 40x40 initiative that led to nothing? Or the charitable cookbook that seemed more about having Meghan’s face on the cover than actually helping the women involved? It’s all part of the same pattern: calculated self-promotion disguised as generosity.
And did you catch that username? Simply Meghan. Not Meghan Markle, not Duchess of Sussex—just Meghan. Like Madonna. Like Beyoncé. The audacity is breathtaking. After years of demanding privacy, she’s now positioning herself as a one-name celebrity icon while simultaneously playing the ordinary mom card.
While Prince William has been supporting Catherine through her cancer treatment with quiet dignity, and while King Charles continues his duties despite his own health challenges, what are Harry and Meghan doing? Creating Instagram content. Filming Netflix shows. Desperately clinging to relevance while contributing nothing of substance.
I’ve followed the royal family my whole life. I’ve seen Princess Anne dedicate decades to service without complaint. I watched the late Queen serve until her final days. I’ve seen William and Catherine modernize the monarchy while respecting its traditions. That is real royalty—not this Montecito brand of attention-seeking.
The saddest part? Harry. Where is he in all this? Likely behind the scenes, holding a lighting reflector for Meghan’s breakfast filming. The man who once charmed the world with his genuine warmth has become a mere accessory to his wife’s endless PR campaigns. He was once a prince who created the Invictus Games out of genuine compassion for wounded veterans. Now, he’s reduced to book deals and tell-all interviews, cashing in on his own family’s struggles.
Then there’s the fakery surrounding Meghan’s children. Valentine’s treats with Lilibet. St. Patrick’s Day waffles for Archie. But have you noticed? We never actually see the kids—just their hands or the backs of their heads. She wants the credit for being a hands-on mother without truly sharing her children with the world. And that’s fine—except when you contrast it with Catherine, who beautifully balances privacy and public engagement, sharing authentic moments of her children taken by her own hand.
The most frustrating part? The sheer hypocrisy. They left the UK for privacy—yet they invite Netflix cameras into their home. They wanted financial independence—yet they cling to their royal titles for commercial gain. They decried the toxic press—yet they court media attention at every turn.
Meanwhile, the working royals are out visiting hospitals, supporting charities, and representing Britain on the world stage. And what are Meghan and Harry doing? Making banana splits on Instagram.
It’s like comparing a priceless historical artifact to a cheap plastic souvenir. Both might shine, but only one has real value.
Sources close to the palace say William and Catherine simply shake their heads at these antics. They’re focused on Catherine’s health, raising their children with as much normalcy as possible, and preparing for their future roles. They don’t have time for Instagram stories. They have actual work to do.
I wonder if Meghan ever reflects on what could have been. She had an opportunity few will ever have—to be part of an ancient institution, to have a global platform for meaningful work, to be welcomed into a family that has shaped history. And yet, here she is, posting blurry Instagram stories about breakfast foods.
Imagine what Catherine and Meghan could have accomplished together—two dynamic women modernizing the monarchy while preserving its traditions. Instead, Catherine soldiers on alone, demonstrating remarkable grace through her health challenges, while Meghan chases Hollywood relevance.
Some may say I’m being harsh, but sometimes, the truth isn’t pretty. The contrast between the working royals and the Sussex brand has never been clearer. One side understands that with privilege comes duty. The other sees privilege as something to be monetized.
