Buckle up, Buttercup, because Alice is slipping on her crown, grabbing her sassiest ink-dipped quill, and diving headfirst into the sparkly, guilt-tripping, essential oil-scented fever dream that is…
“The Mad Queen and the MLM Spellbinders: A Potion of Promises, Pressure, and Pinkwashing”
From the Quill of the Mad Tea Mistress
☕️ Alice’s Mad Tea Party
https://alicespillsthetea.bloodthornpublishing.com
Brought to you by the mad mind of Sonia Bloodthorn
https://www.worldof4evermore.com/2024/12/sonia-bloodthorn-queen-of-4evermore.html
Darlings. Darlings. Darlings. Gather ‘round the teacups because Alice—yes, that Alice, the Mad Mad Queen of Rosehaven Castle with one foot in Wonderland and the other stomping through modern madness—is about to spill piping-hot tea that smells faintly of lavender, desperation, and overpriced collagen powder.
Today’s tale is one of enchantments, illusions, and mystical monsters dressed as mommies with matching planners. Yes, sweet things, I’m talking about the shimmering, syrupy, soul-crushing “Mom Boss” MLM Cultures—those pastel-hued pyramids with rhinestone-coated lies baked into their glossy PDFs.
Once upon a tea-stained timeline, there lived a mortal mama named Bella Sparklebeam. Bella was bright, bold, and battling the invisible hydra known as motherhood. Worn down by night feeds and school pick-ups, she dared to whisper her dreams into the universe... and the universe sent her a fairy godmother named Amberlina (who drove a leased Lexus and answered only to her “upline”).
Amberlina offered Bella a magic potion - a chance to “work from home in her pajamas,” “be her own boss,” and “never miss a moment.” All she had to do? Buy $499 worth of "starter potions" and start posting “authentically” (wink) with scripts & directions but ofcourse, on the Book of Faces.
What followed, kittens, was not a fairy tale. It was a spell. A slow, shimmering enchantment of glittery graphics and group chats filled with “You’ve got this, boss babe!” and passive-aggressive “Did you follow up with your 3 daily manifestations yet?” messages.
And lo, Bella Sparklebeam did try. She sold weight-loss teas that tasted like regret, wrinkle creams that smelled like debt, and protein powder named after an ancient moon goddess who wept for every woman dragged into this scheme.
But the real potion wasn’t in the products - it was the pressure. The guilt. The thinly veiled “If you really cared about your kids, you’d push harder” whispers from “friends” who hadn’t spoken to her since high school but now popped up to “empower” her with starter kits.
The line between support and manipulation? Blurred like a mascara ad after tears.
And darling, if Bella ever dared to rest - just one day off the potion grind - Amberlina would message, “Hey, just checking in. I noticed your vibe’s a little off. Are you manifesting properly? Remember, your kids are watching.”
THE AUDACITY. THE GASLIGHTING. THE GLITTER.
Meanwhile, the true Queens—the ones who brewed their own dreams in moonlit kitchens, who didn’t owe a single dime to a single upline -were being shamed in silence. Because if you didn’t hustle, if you didn’t buy the dream, you were obviously “jealous,” “negative,” or (gasp!) “not spiritual enough.”
NOT TODAY, SATAN, AND CERTAINLY NOT IN A MATCHING MOMMY-AND-ME TRACKSUIT.
So let Alice say this:
Your love is not measured in starter kits.
And your worth is not defined by how many “hey girly” messages you send before breakfast.
And what of the mamas who tried? The ones who showed up, sparkled hard, posted the scripts, chugged the Kool-Aid smoothies, and still didn’t make more than enough to cover their overpriced vision board supplies?
They were told, “It’s a mindset issue.”
They were told, “You’ve got to want it more.”
They were told, “You didn’t manifest hard enough.”
But when they finally ghosted the group chat, when the “hustle” quietly ran dry and they tiptoed out of the glittery dungeon of “boss babe” life - guess what?
Crickets.
No “sisters for life.”
No “we miss you, babe.”
Not even a passive-aggressive “Just circling back to see if you’re okay!”
The so-called family vanished faster than a tax return in a sponsored giveaway. Poof. Gone. Like the bonuses they were promised. And darling, if no one’s said it yet?
It’s okay. It was a fake family anyway.
Fabricated friendships stitched together with commission codes and guilt-laced affirmations. You don’t need that kind of magic in your life.
Your real worth? Never had to be proven in the comments section of a Facebook live.
CHEERS.
To the moms who said no.
To the moms who said “I tried” and walked away.
To the ones who didn’t drink the potion or finally spit it out.
You, my dear, are the true mad queens. The rebels of the algorithm. The sparkle without the scam.
Now go sip some tea, not the $60 miracle detox sludge. Your liver works just fine.
