Meghan Markle is now trying to present herself as a domestic goddess, whipping up homemade St. Patrick’s Day waffles for her children.
Sounds wholesome, right? But here’s the kicker—the woman who found royal duties “too demanding” now wants us to believe she’s spending her mornings making festive breakfasts from scratch. Come on!
On Monday, Meghan posted a perfectly curated Instagram story, showing herself preparing green waffle batter for Archie and Lilibet. She’s seen whisking away, pouring the mixture into a high-end Cuisinart waffle maker—you know, the kind that makes those deep, restaurant-style Belgian waffles.
But here’s where things get interesting: when she revealed the “final” product, it looked nothing like what her fancy waffle maker would produce. Instead of a thick, ridged waffle, she presented a completely flat one. It was as if we’d just witnessed a magic trick gone wrong.
Now, royal watchers with keen eyes immediately spotted the inconsistency. Some even pointed out that the so-called “homemade” waffles bore a striking resemblance to the store-bought Kellogg’s Eggo Dragon Waffles, which are—you guessed it—green. So, was this really a wholesome baking moment, or just another staged PR stunt?
This is the same woman who orchestrated a fake royal tour in Nigeria, conveniently releases “candid” photos whenever the real royals have major events, and somehow always has paparazzi around despite her so-called quest for privacy. Now, she’s trying to sell the idea that she’s just a regular mom making breakfast for her kids. It’s beyond transparent at this point.
Page Six later reported that two different waffle makers were used—one for the kids and one for the adults. Oh, how convenient! But if that were truly the case, why didn’t she show both in her Instagram cooking show? Why not mention it right away? The explanation only surfaced after people started calling her out. It’s classic Meghan—damage control after the fact.
And let’s talk about the finished product for a second. The children’s waffle was a sad-looking green slab topped with a single slice of kiwi, two blueberries, and a dollop of canned whipped cream. Does that really scream “loving homemade breakfast”? Meanwhile, the adult version consisted of two quarters of a waffle with a couple of strawberries.
Why do Harry and Meghan only get half portions in their household? Maybe they’re watching their figures for their next staged paparazzi appearance.
But let’s be real—this wasn’t about waffles. It was about attention. Meghan thrives on crafting the perfect image of the perfect wife, the perfect mother, and the perfect homemaker. Yet, everything about her public persona is so blatantly calculated. If privacy was truly her priority, why is she posting cooking videos on Instagram? Why is every aspect of her life curated for public consumption?
And speaking of public consumption, where was Harry in all of this? Probably standing in the corner holding the camera, playing the role of Instagram husband. The once vibrant, cheeky prince has been reduced to a supporting character in Meghan’s ongoing reality show. It’s honestly heartbreaking to witness his transformation. You have to wonder—does he ever look at his brother, Prince William, and feel regret? William and Catherine never feel the need to stage these forced “look at us being normal” moments. When they share glimpses of their family life, it feels authentic, not like a meticulously crafted PR stunt.
Compare this waffle saga to Catherine, who actually bakes birthday cakes for her children, an activity shared through genuine palace-released photos, not orchestrated social media performances. The contrast couldn’t be more glaring. While William and Catherine remain focused on their royal responsibilities, Meghan and Harry are faking waffles for Instagram likes.
And let’s not ignore the timing. This PR move happened right after King Charles’s cancer diagnosis. How predictable! Whenever something significant happens with the royal family, Meghan and Harry conveniently swoop in with some nonsense to steal the spotlight. It’s a pattern we’ve seen time and time again. While King Charles continues his duties despite his health struggles, Meghan is out here pretending to cook.
At the end of the day, Meghan Markle has built a career on fabrication—from her exaggerated tales of royal mistreatment to her pretend friendships with celebrities, from her so-called charity work to, apparently, her waffle-making skills.
And the saddest part? She’s dragging her children into it. Archie and Lilibet deserve better than to be used as props in their mother’s relentless PR campaign.
If Meghan truly wanted to make a special breakfast for her kids, she could have done it without posting about it online. But that was never the point. The point was attention, validation, and another attempt to maintain her relevance.
Her fans will, of course, defend her. They’ll say, “It’s just waffles! You’re being too hard on her.” But it’s not just about waffles—it’s about a pattern of behavior. A continuous cycle of manipulations and half-truths that make up the Meghan Markle brand.
Remember when she claimed she’d never heard of Prince Harry before meeting him? Or when she insisted they had a secret wedding that never actually happened? The pattern is clear—nothing is authentic. Everything is carefully curated to present herself in the best possible light, regardless of the truth.
And the worst part? She’s not even good at it. If you’re going to stage a fake cooking video, at least make sure the final product matches the equipment you showed. This is amateur-level deception at best.
Meanwhile, Catherine, despite her recent health struggles, continues to carry herself with grace and dignity. She doesn’t need to manufacture authenticity because she already is authentic.
She doesn’t need to stage domestic scenes because her life is already full of purpose and meaning. The difference between these two women could not be more obvious.
Meghan Markle had the opportunity to be part of something truly significant. Instead, she’s resorted to faking waffles on Instagram for clout. It’s a tragic fall from grace, and the desperation is palpable.