My mother-in-law wore white to our wedding, and she stood next to us at the registrar office, saying, “I had to do something to save my wedding.”
I’ve always understood that my mother-in-law is a complex individual. But I never thought she would wear white to my wedding, not even in my wildest thoughts.
With its great length, lace, and emphasis on her shape, the outfit was essentially a wedding gown. As if it were her runway moment, she showed up at the registrar office entryway. She simply grinned and remarked, while the guests whispered:
“So what? We’re all having a party.
Her insistence on riding in the same car as us was the first warning sign.
“Do you no longer recognize me?” — and she took a seat next the groom. I crammed myself into the rear seat. Excellent beginning, isn’t it?
She stood directly next us in the registry office, acting as if she were a third partner in our relationship. Her hand on my husband’s shoulder and her face closer to the camera than mine are visible in every picture. She even repositioned my veil at one point and muttered:
“Everything is skewed against you. Let me make a good fix.
She pretended to be the hostess at the reception. As if to remind my husband what mother she was, she changed the music, informed the waiters the “salad was bland,” and most importantly, she kept speaking to him.
The pinnacle of her audacity, she then got up and made a toast:
“I hope you’re happy. But to be honest, I was hoping my son would choose something else. However, if this is how things must be, then so be it.
The hallway was silent. I tried my best to grin. But I was seething inside.
I brought a glass of red wine to my mother-in-law, ostensibly to “make peace,” clink glasses, and snap a picture. She leaned forward a little, and I “accidentally” touched her with my palm at that precise moment.
Her white clothing was splattered with red wine.
“Oh!” she said as she wiped the cloth. “How awkward…”
I instantly proposed:
The restroom has napkins and a mirror. Check it out; it might come out.
She entered. I made sure she was inside the cubicle before silently locking the door from outside after following her.
I quietly turned back to the guests and said:
Because she wasn’t feeling well, Mom went home. She requested not to be bothered.
The nighttime suddenly grew much lighter. I finally felt like a bride and not a guest at someone else’s family drama as the music played and the guests laughed once more.
I have no regrets about it, and I think we have a fascinating and enjoyable life ahead of us.
