Natalie is the perfect tradwife. She has a large family, a homestead in Idaho, a curated Christian “aesthetic” (because that’s what is being portrayed here), and millions of followers watching her live the rural housewives dream. Raw milk, fresh farm eggs, but behind the scenes, a production staff and multiple industrial grade ovens help make the perfect life, perfectly manufactured.

The problem isn’t that Natalie is performing and idolized by millions of people and she’s sharing parts of her life. The problem is that her performance is a lie. Social media amplifies what we allow it to see. My problem with Natalie is that she’s creating a fake life of herself, one she paid for, rather than actually working for it. I’d call her a con artist.

“The goal of an influencer is not to be lovable, and it is not to be unbearable. The goal is to be both at once. In other words: addiction.”

Natalie isn’t performing for herself. She’s performing an idea of a tradwife, one she thought she could sell.

“[…] The trend performance of womanhood.”

Now she’s a mask fused with a face, unable to separate who she is from what she performs.

But at what cost? What about when the addiction is based on lies? I feel like this relates to my social media presence, because I post daily if not frequently too. I want people to like what I have to say and share — not to the point of addiction, but enough for people to come back and follow for more book recommendations, outfit inspiration, and just a silly good time.

I challenged myself in May to post every single day on Instagram. The goal was for me to get outside of my comfort zone and learn how to be creative and post whatever I want to — break through the barrier between my worries and embarrassment. We’ll get into the positives and what I learned, but I also found myself constantly refreshing my notifications to see how many people liked my post, if I had new followers, and what they were saying about what I was sharing.

So what’s the difference between Natalie and me?

I noticed that on the days I posted something I genuinely loved — a book I couldn’t stop thinking about, an outfit that made me feel like myself, sharing my journal ecosystems — the notifications didn’t matter as much. I still checked them, but the post already felt complete before anyone responded to it! The difference between what I should post and what I wanted to post taught me just how much nothing matters except how I feel.

Posting every day taught me that creativity is a muscle and consistency is how you build it, but ultimately it taught me that in order for me to want others to praise my work, I first need to be proud of myself. By the end of May I was reaching for my camera differently, not to perform a moment but to capture one. The barrier between what I wanted to share and being afraid of sharing was still there (and it still is), but it got smaller. It’s not because I stopped caring what other people thought, but because I started caring more about what I thought.

I still wanted the attention and it’s silly for me to pretend otherwise. But I was refreshing my notifications on something that was actually mine, for myself.

That’s the difference between Natalie and me. Not that I don’t perform. I do. I think we all do if we’re posting on social media on some level. You can disagree with me, and that’s fine.

The problem was never performance. The problem is performing a lie. Building an audience on a version of yourself you had to manufacture and maintain, a self you don’t actually go home to at the end of the day. Natalie’s performance is the mask that fused with her face.

What I posted in May didn’t require industrial grade ovens or a production staff. It required me to show up as myself (awkward, goofy, and quietly sometimes confident), but alway honest. Wanting people to respond to that isn’t vanity. I think it’s just being human. I believe that we have always wanted to be witnessed. The question is whether what we’re asking people to witness is real or not.

I’m going to keep posting. I’m going to want people to like it. There’s a version of sharing that comes from a full place, and a version that comes from an empty one. Natalie’s version of herself hollowed her out. I want mine to keep filling me up.

The performance isn’t the problem. It never was. It’s what you’re performing, and whether at the end of the day, you can still find yourself underneath it all.

I’ve been thinking a lot about that contradiction lately - how the world can be so overwhelming and beautiful at the same time. Maybe the only way through it is to keep noticing the small beauties, regardless of the large destructions and distractions we’re facing?

Sometimes it feels almost wrong to notice these little moments, like enjoying a quiet morning is naive when there is so much suffering happening all at once. The internet makes this feeling even louder. You can scroll from a video of someone sharing their freshly baked sourdough bread into footage of natural disasters and unnatural (more so manmade) wars on the other side of the world. Joy and grief side by side on the same screen.

I’ve been wondering if noticing small beauties is actually necessary, not as an escape from reality, but as a way of staying human inside of it all. The world is constantly asking us to hold on to anger, grief, and rage but we also need something that reminds us why the world is worth holding on to. I’m not ignoring the negative space. I’m choosing to notice and making more space for positivity. Isn’t this a more realistic way to live anyway?

Paying attention to beauty feels like a small act of defiance. A refusal to let the worst parts of the world be the only things that shape how we see it. The world might always be a little on fire. History suggests that it usually is anyway. But there are also small beauties scattered around - little pieces of hope in sunlight, in books, in quiet mornings. Maybe the work of being alive is learning how to hold space for both.

Small beauties I noticed this morning that inspired me to write this piece:

• The 6am silence of the morning before the rest of the world wakes up

• The smell of my freshly brewed cup of coffee

• Spilling said cup of coffee on the table

• Birds chirping outside of my window

• Bucky and Molly chasing each other around the backyard

• The feeling of pen touching paper while I write my morning pages

• Sunlight touching my bookshelves, illuminating my books

• The sound of pages flipping as I finish my current read

In search of small beauties,

Subha

I wish I felt comfortable sharing this with my best friends…which is why I’m sharing it with the rest of the world instead. The irony does not leave me, don’t worry. I’m not even sure where this is going, but if you’re child-free by choice and trying to figure out what comes next, this one is for you.

I’m not saying aspiring parents don’t think about why they want to raise children. I’m sure many do. But as a woman in a committed relationship who’s choosing to be child-free, I feel like I’m constantly forced to sit with the question: “Why don’t you want to be a parent?” Honestly, that’s not fair, is it? Because no one really asks aspiring parents the opposite: “Why do you want to be a parent?”

It’s like the default life path is still this cookie-cutter checklist we were all handed growing up:

Get good grades.
Go to college.
Get a degree.
Find a well-paying job.
Find a partner.
Get married.
Have kids.
The end.

And if you step off that path, people act as if you owe them an explanation.

It’s as if I’m expected to have this perfectly packaged answer ready, and if I don’t, the response is always: “Oh, you’ll change your mind.” Listen, I get it. Some choose to be child free because they want to enjoy their free time while others don’t want the additional responsibility, and sure, both those can be true. I also think we don’t talk enough about the part that’s harder to admit out loud and it’s that being child-free can come with loss, too. We’re not just opting out of responsibility. We’re also opting out of the sweetest firsts of life like teaching a kid how to ride a bike, or watching them learn who they are, and protecting them when they fall (even when you can’t actually protect them from everything). Those moments are real. They’re beautiful. Yes, choosing not to have kids also means not to have those experiences, too.

While others dream of baby names and building a family, I feel a strange mix of certainty and sadness. Free time is a pro, obviously. But a con is knowing I won’t have those “first-time” moments with a little one. However, I’m still happy to say, my sweet dogs will be enough for me.

Sometimes I wonder if this makes me selfish. Is not wanting a child to take up space in my life very leo of me? Probably. But then I remember that it’s my life, and my decision doesn’t need to be validated by anyone but my husband.

Additionally, I don’t think child-free people get enough credit, because we’ve actually had to make the decision. We’ve had to picture both versions of life: with children and without children. We’ve had to imagine the trade-offs and still choose the one that feels right.

Lately, I’ve been thinking about it even more because my husband and I are in that dual-income, no-kids phase, and I’m at the age where everyone around me is either having children or planning to. I’m part of a friend group where I’m basically the only one who doesn’t want children, and I’m sad about it. That doesn’t make me a bad person. It just makes me honest.

I can’t help but think, what is my life going to look like in 5-10 years? I don’t regret my decision, I really don’t, but I am scared sometimes about what the future looks like when the people you love are building lives that revolve around their children (as they should). I do wish I had more child-free friends. I wish there were more communities for people like me. There are mom groups and parent groups everywhere, so why does it feel like there aren’t enough child-free support groups where you can talk about this stuff without being judged?

Also, let’s just be clear: woe is not me. Anyone who wants to be a parent and can responsibly care for a child deserves to be a parent! I believe deeply in women’s rights and pro-choice, and my choice just…isn’t very motherly, and I accept that. I also think there’s still a stigma around not wanting to be a parent. Child-free people get labeled selfish and carefree, like we’re doing life on “easy mode.” The truth is that we’re giving up something, too. We must acknowledge and accept this. Sometimes, we have to confront that loss in a way, because we’re choosing a life that’s a little of the unknown, a life we weren’t raised to have. We’re not prepared for this.

However, here’s what I still know:

I can still have a full life.
A big life.
A meaningful life.

Cheers to the child-free friends out there! This one’s for you.

Wow! We made it through January. Every January in the past has felt like The Neverending Story, the longest and coldest month of the year. “Nothing happens”, they say or “We’re hibernating from the holidays,” I say. This January was exceptionally grim due to the injustice and cruelty in America but I’d be lying if I said that there weren’t some sweet moments of the month to share. Don’t get me wrong, I was ready to be rid of it. Heck, I’d flash forward to 2028 for obvious reasons (re: injustice and cruelty in America) but then I would see my life flash before my eyes and that would be no fun, right? Let’s lighten the mood for just a few minutes. Here are my monthly musings, my January unraveled and at your fingertips — the sweet memories to keep so I can remind myself that January doesn’t have other be the worst month of every year.

Books

People We Meet On Vacation / Emily Henry
The absolute best book to start the year with and officially my favorite Emily Henry book!!! People We Meet on Vacation is the perfect friends-to-lovers, will-they-won’t-they romance that will literally make you laugh out loud, and immediately want to reread it as soon as you finish the epilogue. You’ll laugh, ugly cry, laugh again and ugly cry some more. I’d be Alex and Poppy’s third wheel on vacation any day. Oh, the book was 100% better than the movie. The Netflix adaptation was ~mid~ for me.

Graceless Heart / Isabel Ibañez
The storytelling is atmospheric and cinematic, but I personally enjoyed the historical and religious undertones more than the fantasy or romance elements of the story. If you’re a fan of forbidden romance and enemies-to-lovers tropes, you’ll enjoy the dynamic between Raveena and Saturnino. The magic in the story includes fae, mermaids, werewolves, and vampires, but it isn’t fully fleshed out, sharing mostly surface-level details. However, the political turmoil and the impact of religion on magic and humanity during the time period add a sense of unease to the narrative, driving Raveena to challenge what she once believed her magic to be while also exploring its potential to change the fate of Italy.

The Raven Scholar / Antonia Hodgson
I honestly didn’t believe in the hype that this book was getting and the rumors are true - it’s just as good as they say it is! As far as fantasies go, I’m so impressed by the originality of the story with complicated characters and a mystery that will make you keep second guessing yourself until the very end. Each character is expressed with nuance and depth. The writing style is intricate and engulfs you into the fantasy world of Orrin. It’s long but every detail is worth it! This first book in a series has competition that doesn’t just drive the plot but compliments the larger story of the murder mystery. It’s clever, witty, and left me smarter than when I started but also confused once I finished because what do you mean that’s how the story ends?! Overall, it’s such a strong start and I’m so excited to continue on with the series from a new-to-me author!

Heated Rivalry / Rachel Reid
Maybe unpopular opinion but the TV show adaption was so much better than the movie. I listened to the audiobook and I don’t know if it was the narrator, or the fact that Ilya and Shane sounded immature throughout the entire book? Or it’s the fact that I am more of a closed-door romance reader and this entire book was an ode to spice and sexy time.

The Nickel Boys / Colson Whitehead
If you’re needing a book to read to celebrate Black History Month, I’d recommend The Nickel Boys. While I enjoyed Tananarive Due’s The Reformatory more, this historical fiction is an important reminder of the injustice Black men and women alike have faced, and still do today. It’s rich in detail with a plot twist at the end that I had to rewind and listen to back to — I was listening to the audiobook. Both The Nickel Boys and The Reformatory are based off of real events that occurred at the Dozier School for Boys in Florida. I still cannot believe that the school wasn’t shut down until 2011. The story is heavy, horrific, tragic and a masterpiece. I’ll be watching the movie adaptation in February, so stay tuned for my review!

The Housekeeper and the Professor / Yoko Ogawa
*See ‘Favorites’ section

The Snow Child / Eowyn Ivey
A tender retelling of ‘The Snow Maiden’. The Snow Child is sweet, quiet, cold, distant, calm, loving but also evokes frustration, all at the same time. The writing is written with delicacy and emotional intelligence and it’s not a story to rush through. The Alaskan setting of nature is peaceful, but also a danger to those who don’t treat it with respect and care. The story started out strong but by 3/4 of the way through, I was frustrated with the miscommunication between our two main characters. There’s also what I thought was a polarizing plot to the story by that point which I loathed as well and this ultimately led me to not enjoying the story. If I’m going to be honest, I’d rather you read The Great Alone by Kristin Hannah or Wild Dark Shore by Charlotte McConaghy.

Still Into You / Erin Connor (gifted copy, out feb. 10th)
Ah, my first DNF (~25%) of the year, and I should have seen it coming. Up until last fall, I’d always been a romance girly, through and through. Give me a second-chance romance, or a friends-to-lovers trope and I will kick my feet and giggle through an entire book. With the change of seasons, my reading preference has drastically changed too — Instead of kicking my feet, I felt like I was being dragged through the book, even though it’s a second-chance romance! I adored Unromance, Erin Connor’s debut novel but unfortunately, my mood and this book clashed pretty intensely. I’m too stubborn to force myself to read something I don’t want to, but also I’d be doing Erin and the publishing team a disservice if I finished the ARC and gave a scathing review. It’s time we move on, and I haven’t looked back.

Favorites

The Housekeeper and the Professor / Yoko Ogawa
This story deserves a synopsis for me to share with you all: A character-driven story about a housekeeper who cares for a professor who was in an accident that left him with a traumatic brain injury, where he can only remember the last 80 minutes of his present - living with severe short-term memory loss. While he may not remember anything that happened in the past, he still remembers his love for math. This is a sweet, slow, low-stakes story about found family and the importance of living in the moment. If you’re a fan of ‘A Man Called Ove’ by Fredrik Backman, you’ll love this book!

“If you met him today, he wouldn’t remember you tomorrow.” But I sure will remember the beautiful friendship between the housekeeper and the professor, and the shared love for prime numbers and Root (the housekeeper’s son). This was the perfect palate cleanser, and honestly, the perfect length. I almost wish it were longer! I’m quite surprised by how much I enjoyed this book because nothing dramatic really happens. The beauty lies in the small, mundane moments the characters share with one another, reminding us to cherish what we have right now and that time is precious. The novel is full of mathematical relationships and concepts, but they’re so easily digestible because they’re all connected to the professor’s life and the way he experiences the world. “Numbers were also his only way of reaching out to the world. They were safe, a source of comfort.”

This is the sweetest story, and it had me ugly crying by the end because I was so invested in and connected to these characters. I adored the intimate details that celebrate ordinary moments and turn them into something extraordinary for the professor, even if time is fleeting. We spend 180 pages wrapped in comfort between the housekeeper, the professor, and Root in such a short amount of time. It’s such a simple story about getting to know someone, but the very mundane details are what allow the relationships to grow and deepen.

Step-By-Step Sweater by Florence Miller

My hand knit sweater deserves its own section! My first ever knitwear & she is fresh off of the needles and ready to take on the world!!! The pattern is perfect for beginners & you’ll most likely have a mistake or two or three (if you’re like me) but that’s what makes it special!

Yarn used: Noro Garden Silk Solo in 86 Sasebo d

Heated Rivalry (television series)

February is the month of love, and all I can say is that Heated Rivalry, the show, is absolute perfection and everyone should watch it so we can all go to the cottage together. It’s intimate, passionate, and I love the duality of man — sharing both the rugged and sporty sides of our characters along with the gentle and soft sides. I can confirm that I still know nothing about hockey and I don’t need to.

Cook Book Club: Molly Baz

My college roommates have all moved back to Kansas City and we started a monthly cookbook club! January’s cookbook was More Is More by Molly Baz and our spread was a feast! It felt like Thanksgiving all over again! I made ‘Drunken Cacio E Pepe’ (Pictured top left corner) which was both spicy and boozy with a side of ‘Cauliflower Salad with Vegan Ranch Dressing’ (Pictured right below Molly’s cookbook). I’d give us chefs an A+++!

Wow, if you’ve made it this far, thank you so much for reading! I’m new to Substack and I’m figure out the flow of it all. Hopefully my long rants are appreciated, and if not, well, please don’t tell me otherwise because this is my cozy little safe space. I hope February is full of love and I’ll see you next month for February’s Pocket Musings!

I only mention this trend because I thought I’d introduce myself to the few new Susbtack subscribers I have. I’m not a chameleon shifting personalities, but I don’t think you’ll see this side of me on Instagram or YouTube. The more I reflect on how I want to introduce myself, or what I can even say, the more distant I feel from 2016, and the more I feel like my identity sounds like every other chickity on the block.

I used to know who I was, and talking about myself came so naturally to me. What do you expect? I’m a Leo! In my early 20s, I was as extroverted as a golden retriever and meeting people felt like a passion and it brought me so much joy. My boss once told me I could have a conversation with a wall, and to this day I’m taking that as a compliment. Please don’t overthink it.

I loved meeting people and my favorite question to ask someone was, “What’s your life story?” They’d respond with, “What does that even mean?” and I’d smile and say, “Oh, just tell me a little bit about yourself.” Looking back now, I wonder why I asked in such a roundabout way. Did I think I was being fanciful?

Most times, they wouldn’t know what to say, so I’d go first. It usually went like this:

I’m Subha, and it’s pronounced like ‘shoe’ and a sheep goes ‘buh’. I was born in India but moved to Kansas City when I was three years old and I’ve been a Kansan since. I’m basically like a coconut, just like Mindy Kaling—brown on the outside, and white on the inside.

[Okay, I could never say this now, and I know how inappropriate this is, but Mindy said it on her show and she was basically my Jesus at the time.]

I work in advertising and I have a beagle basset hound named Mowgli. He is very long and very low to the ground. I teach yoga and I love beer and brunch. Beers, brunch and beagle bassets.

The introduction also sounds like something every other chickity on the block would say.

In 2016, nothing mattered enough to worry. I was living my best life in Kansas City—going to happy hours after work and drinking until the late hours on the weekends. At the time, my early 20s were my prime, but I still don’t want 2026 to be the new 2016.

That’s then, but who am I now?

You’re probably wanting to click away to a more interesting article, or maybe you’re still reading this and wondering the same thing. I honestly don’t know what to tell you, and I’ve felt this way since I turned 30, two years ago. If you feel this way too, I’m giving you a hug from the other side of the computer screen.

It wasn’t until October 2025, when I had to say goodbye to Mowgli that I felt like my tether to my early 20s officially snap. He was the last part of my 2016 since that’s when I adopted him. Now I feel like I’m existing in this space where I don’t know who I am or who I want to be. I don’t even know how I would introduce myself anymore.

What’s my life story?

For the sake of rambling and needing to finish my first substack, here’s my 2026 version of my life story. It’s a work in progress and I refuse to make 2026 the new 2016.

I’m Subha, and it’s pronounced like ‘shoe’ and a sheep goes ‘buh’. I was born in India but moved to Kansas City when I was three years old and I’ve been a Kansan since. I still work in advertising, and I spend my time reading books and creating content on Instagram and YouTube. I drink coffee more than I drink water (I’m not perfect), and I don’t talk to walls anymore. I’m starting a Substack because I have a lot of sense and nonsense to share, and I collect thoughts like pocket lint with nowhere to put them but here.

Thanks for reading and I hope you stay!