**”Give Me the Dress—You Won’t Fit in It Anyway”: A Mother-in-Law, Drama, and Family Tensions**
I had just put my son to bed when my phone buzzed. A message from Elizabeth—my mother-in-law. “I’ll be there soon,” it read. Elizabeth was… difficult, to say the least. No warmth, no kindness—just arrogance, vanity, and an endless obsession with appearing younger. No one knew her real age; she guarded it fiercely, insisting she was “eighteen at heart.”
When I was pregnant, Elizabeth made it clear she wouldn’t be helping. Her busy life—gym sessions, ballroom dancing, dates—left no room for rocking a baby to sleep. “I’ve done my time with nappies,” she’d snapped. “Not a day more.”
Ten minutes later, the doorbell rang. There she stood, wearing a flashy dress, her hair styled like a TV presenter’s, and heels so high the clicking echoed through the entire block. She swept in like she owned the place, kicked off her shoes, and marched to the kitchen.
“Emily, love, make us a cuppa, will you?” she sighed. “I’ve been running around all day—work, shopping, errands. Absolutely knackered. Oh, that emerald dress you wore to the office party—remember it?”
I tensed. “Yes…?”
“Give it to me. You’ve put on weight since the baby—you’ll never squeeze into it now.”
My chest tightened. Yes, my body had changed—but hearing it from her, in that tone, stung. Elizabeth, of course, wasn’t done.
“Aren’t you even going to ask why I want it?”
I stayed silent. I already knew. She was always hunting for her next “Prince Charming”—someone younger, wealthier. Her life was one endless audition. No romance ever lasted more than a few months.
“I’ve got a new chap,” she announced smugly. “Handsome, owns a flat and a BMW. Might be a player, though. So you’re going to help me test him. Message him on Facebook—see if he bites.”
“I’m not playing games like that,” I said firmly.
“Oh, really? Fine. Keep your dress. Use it as a bloody dishcloth—it’s not like you’ll wear it again!” With a huff, she stormed out, slamming the door behind her.
Naturally, she complained to my husband, James. When he got home, he listened to both sides. He knew his mother was volatile—she needed “handling.” But I could see the irritation in his eyes.
“I’ll talk to her,” he murmured, pulling me into a hug.
Days passed. For James’s birthday, friends were meant to come over, but his oldest mate canceled last minute. Meanwhile, Elizabeth didn’t call to wish him happy birthday—no, she rang to moan about another failed fling.
Then she showed up again. This time with a jar of jam and an apology.
“Sorry, love. I lost my temper. I’m just… tired. Being alone is hard. I keep looking for someone, but it’s always disappointment. Take Geoffrey, for example. We were going to move in together, but then his son rang—said I was ‘wrecking their family.’ Turns out Geoffrey’s up to his ears in debt, still married, and I was just… a distraction. He cut me off like I never existed.”
“Maybe he got scared?” I offered gently.
“Or he’s weak. His son threatened to pay off his debts if he dropped me. And he did. Just like that. Probably thought I’d drag him to the registry office and then sniff around his will. Can you believe it?”
As Elizabeth ranted, I stayed quiet. James walked in, and the performance resumed—how hard done by she was, how exhausted from being alone. She wanted his pity, as usual.
“Mum, maybe stop forcing it? The right person will find you,” he said calmly.
“Oh, so I should sit at home and mope?”
“No, but dial down the drama. Take your grandson to the park. Life isn’t just romance.”
“Ah, so now I’m free childcare, am I? Your kid, your problem!”
“Mum, you’re twisting everything. Find a hobby, not another headache.”
“A *hobby*? I want love! And if I make mistakes, that’s my business! Maybe tell your wife to sort herself out—she’s let herself go since the baby. No spark, no effort. Think that’s how marriages last?”
“Enough! Leave Emily out of this! She just had a baby—she’ll bounce back. You could support her instead of tearing her down!”
Elizabeth slammed the door on her way out. I stood in the hallway, throat tight, and wordlessly hugged James.
Because I knew—she wouldn’t change. She was who she was. And the only choice was to live with it… or build a wall between us.
