Whatever, MFA-having ass bitches.

The Cheek 016: comparison is the thief of creativity and the book of dirty diet coke

Jul 13, 2025

Vibe Check

I’ve always been chronically online, an early adopter of social media. I’ve never been afraid of putting myself out there: blogging about my high school boyfriend on MySpace, posting makeup tutorials on YouTube, and being the first of my millennial friend group to join TikTok. Aside from a few viral videos, I was never very successful in my social media pursuits. What starts as a fun hobby almost always turns into me being consumed by algorithms and analytics. My voice and authenticity get drowned out by the noise of comparison.

I’ve been on Substack for about a year. When I first started, the words couldn’t get onto the page quickly enough. I forced myself to space out my posts so I didn’t spam my tiny subscriber list. But lately, I feel old patterns creeping up. I’m a college dropout. I barely got through high school. Ya know, “if you only applied yourself” and all that. So when I read the work of my Substack peers, I want to crawl into a ball and hide.

How could I ever compare?

I’m not sure if it’s just comparison holding me back, though. There’s part of me that’s afraid to see what might come out if I really try.

I’m afraid for my mother to know the depth of my anger, for my husband to think I’m a slut, and for my friends to realize how different I am from them. I’m afraid of the memories and the pain and the regret to rear its ugly head.

The desire to build an audience, a brand, and to monetize is also holding me back. This was supposed to be a silly little Substack. I was supposed to be one of the Carries on here. Keep it light and silly and not too opinion-y. But sometimes I want to go deeper, and I shouldn’t be concerned with branding when I barely have 200 subscribers.

2025 has been the year of breaking cycles, breaking habits. So here I am, refusing to give it up, refusing to pivot at every inconvenience, refusing to compare myself to you MFA-having ass bitches.

Anyway…

Welcome to The Cheek. My weekly-ish, sometimes snarky newsletter, typically fueled by TikTok brainrot. Here I share my curated clicks, fav products, how I’m getting my shit together (The G.Y.S.T.), and obviously my hot takes. Enjoy.

Curated Clicks

Read: I re-discovered a sample of The Club by Ellery Lloyd that I had downloaded on my Kindle. It’s a murder mystery and involves rich people, so it’s exactly the type of thing I need after ditching the ballsack brothers book (IYKYK). It’s a Reese’s Book Club pick, and I like it so far. I’ll keep you posted.

Watch: Joe and I are re-watching Entourage. I’m embarrassed to admit this is my fourth re-watch. It’s my favorite show, and I’m genuinely worried about how someone might psychoanalyze that. Internalized misogyny? Maybe. Deep, embarrassing desire to be famous? Probably.

Listen: This classical music playlist is the only thing that I can listen to while I’m working. I don’t know shit about shit when it comes to classical music. Can’t name composers or songs or any of that. I can just tell you that I like it and it’s relaxing. So, enjoy.

Scroll: What I’m about to share with you is something my husband and I lovingly refer to as a “crack head account.” And no, I don’t mean an account of literal crackheads. A crack head account is any social media page that taps into niche nostalgia from a problematic period of your life. Think People of Walmart type vibes.

drunkcigsdontcount

A post shared by @drunkcigsdontcount

For me, that account is @drunkcigsdontcount on Instagram. I love cigarettes. I’ve only ever been a drunk/social smoker, though I haven’t touched one since November 2023. I tried my first cigarette at a sleepover when I was eleven (!!!), and if they weren’t so bad for you, I’d smoke ’em all the time.

The G.Y.S.T.

I went to hot yoga at 6:15 AM Monday through Thursday this past week. Am I… better than everyone?

Have you also been personally victimized by FeMiNiNe eNeRgY content? While I very much believe in feminine energy, yin and yang, and all that, I also think we’ve gotten a little too soft in our attempt to become softer.

Waking up early and getting after it really is all it’s cracked up to be.

I’m not saying you need to wake up at the crack of dawn to be a productive and healthy member of society, but maybe… do the thing you keep saying you’re gonna do.

Treat yo’ self.

Drink a dirty soda. Trust me.

I was inspired to try Swig after watching Secret Lives of Mormon Wives on Hulu. Mormons don’t drink coffee, so instead, they drink dirty sodas. Basically, whatever soda you like, plus syrups, creams, and toppings.

I went with Diet Coke, sugar-free coconut syrup, sugar-free raspberry syrup, and coconut cream. I wanted to hate it. But it was delightful.