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A short time after Sarah made Braxlynn’s treats, Braxlynn’s blog post came out. This post isn’t about railing on the Braxlynns of the world (not exclusively anyway), however much the thought of them exacerbates my irritable bowel syndrome.

To her half million followers, Braxlynn and kid had apparently spent a lovely afternoon invested in some quality mother-daughter time, making a super easy and stylish treat in a kitchen that looks like it’s the celestial room’s butler’s pantry. People already have entire websites dedicated to mocking these women and pointing out the ridiculousness of posting a $1,500 “low end” alternative to their favorite $4,500 Tuesday afternoon outfit or the fact that their “baggy pants and sweater” outfit cost more than my best suit (as an aside, the only way I would ever dream of coming close to spending $4,500 on a single outfit is if I was attempting a run through the Mines of Moria and needed full armor fashioned of pure mithril that had been annealed in a vat of dragon tears).

No mention of Sarah, no mention of the nanny, no mention of reality. What I want to talk about is the effect that these blogs have on the millions of people who subscribe to them.

I have to admit that although I had heard Sarah’s story some time ago, I didn’t actually look at Braxlynn’s blog post until just recently. It is a vain illusion pedaled to millions of women around the world for attention, praise, validation and wealth. You can see the effect it has on people by the comments on Instagram.

I was hoping to find out that it hadn’t explicitly claimed that mother and daughter had done the activity together or that it somehow was vague enough for plausible deniability. These women see the palatial houses, fit millionaire hipster husbands with square rimmed glasses, immaculate crafts with kids, unspoiled kitchens with artisan foods, whimsical birthday parties, endless designer clothes, and think that this is all possible. They reach out to these bloggers like the woman in the crowd reaching for Jesus’s robe.

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