When Julie’s soon-to-be daughter-in-law tells her what she needs to wear for the wedding, Julie is left horrified at the black, shapeless mess of a dress. But instead of letting Elizabeth have the final say, Julie takes matters into her own hands.

“That girl is going to give you a run for your money, Julie,” my friend Gloria told me when I mentioned Elizabeth, my soon-to-be daughter-in-law.

“Oh, most definitely,” I agreed. Elizabeth was always so nice to me when my Jimmy was around. She would smile and engage in sweet small talk. But when he wasn’t, her demeanor changed entirely. “It’s like she becomes a different person, Glo,” I said, making some tea.

Elizabeth would always become cold and distant, shutting me out. I always wondered if she felt threatened by my place in Jimmy’s life because we were so close.

“But that can’t be the case,” Gloria said, helping herself to the jar of cookies on the counter. “You haven’t been the overbearing, controlling mother-in-law type. It’s clear to see.”

I agreed with Gloria, of course. Whatever the reason, I always tried to let it slide, for Jimmy’s sake. But then the wedding preparations started, and things took an even bigger turn.

“Mom, Elizabeth has everything planned, but she may ask for your opinion on the flowers. And she did say that she wanted to see mother’s dresses. So, she’ll probably come in and look at what you’re planning to wear for the wedding. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, that’s absolutely fine with me,” I said.

I had nothing to worry about. I had found a beautiful yellow dress that I felt was perfect for the occasion. It was elegant, tasteful, and made me feel good about myself. But when I showed it to Elizabeth, she frowned.

“I’m sorry, Julie,” she said. “But that dress isn’t appropriate for your age and your weight,” she said, her voice dripping with condescension. “Don’t worry,” she added. “I’ll sew you the perfect dress. You know that I have enough experience in making my own clothes.”

“Are you sure?” I asked, twirling around in the dress so that she could see it better and see how much I loved it.

“Yes,” she said. “I’m absolutely sure. I have a vision for my wedding, so I need it to be perfect. I’m going to be sorting my mother’s dress, too.”

A week later, she handed me a shapeless black sack.

“What is this?” I muttered. It looked like a mourning dress from a century ago. I compared it to the stunning pink gown that her mother would be wearing and felt a sting of humiliation. And this was the woman who would soon be my daughter-in-law?

That night, I lay awake, staring at the ceiling. If I let Elizabeth disrespect me like this now, she’d think she could do it forever.

“I know I’m right about this,” I told Gloria over the phone. “I know that if I let Elizabeth walk all over me, then nothing is going to change.”

“Do what you need to do, Julie,” she said.

On the wedding day, I put on the black “bag” dress and arrived early. Everyone was buzzing about, getting ready. There were people running around with floral decorations, and Elizabeth’s hair and makeup people were rushing to her dressing room. It was chaos.

But I kept my cool, greeting guests and smiling as if nothing was wrong. I even let Elizabeth’s mom gloat about her beautiful pink dress.

“Isn’t this just gorgeous?” she asked, running her hands down her dress. “And to think that Elizabeth had it made for me! I know she made yours herself, but she asked one of her designer friends to make mine. How lovely!”

“Yes, it’s lovely,” I said, forcing a smile.

When it was almost time for the ceremony, I excused myself to use the restroom.

“I’ll be right back!” I said. “I just want to freshen up before we walk down the aisle.”

But little did anyone know, I had a dress bag hidden in one of the stalls. And inside it was a stunning red dress, tailored to perfection, showing off my curves and self-confidence.

I slipped into the restroom, quickly changing into the gown. I touched up my makeup, added some gold jewelry, and emerged, feeling like a queen.

“Wow, ma’am,” one of the bathroom cleaners said. “You look stunning!”

I beamed, feeling more like myself than I had all day.

As I walked back to the ceremony, heads turned. Guests whispered, admiring my dress. The color, the fit—it was all perfect. I could feel all eyes on me, exactly what I had planned all along.

Elizabeth saw me from her place, surrounded by her bridesmaids. Her face turned bright red with fury. She stormed over, trying to keep her voice low.

“What are you doing? I told you to wear the dress I made! It was specific for you and for this day!” she hissed.

The bridesmaids glanced at each other, trying to figure out if they should leave or stay.

“Oh, darling,” I said. “I’m sorry. The black bag just didn’t feel right for such a joyous occasion. I thought this would be more appropriate.”

I smiled graciously at her. Elizabeth was fuming, but I continued to keep my cool. Guests began approaching me, complimenting me and asking where I got my dress from.

“You look stunning! That dress is fabulous!” a cousin’s daughter said.

“Absolutely beautiful, Julie,” my brother-in-law said. “You outshine everyone here!”

Then, the music for the ceremony played. It was time. Elizabeth had no choice but to grit her teeth and bear it. She couldn’t make a scene without looking like the villain in this story.

As the ceremony went on, I could see her glancing at me, seething with anger. Her perfect plan to put me in my place had backfired spectacularly.

“Mom!” Jimmy said after the ceremony when we were all meeting for photographs. “You look incredible. I’m so glad you’re here!”

He hugged me tightly.

“Darling, where else would I be on your special day?” I asked him, squeezing him back. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

After the ceremony, during the reception, more guests came up to compliment my dress. And for once, I took pride in being in the spotlight. I would have felt bad if Jimmy was hurt or upset by my dressing, but he truly felt that I looked good and that I deserved all the attention.

On the other hand, Elizabeth’s frustration was palpable, but she couldn’t do anything about it without hurting Jimmy and causing a scene. I had won without uttering a single harsh word.

“Mom,” Jimmy said, coming up to me with two slices of wedding cake. “Come, let’s have some cake together.”

In that moment, I wanted to tell him everything. About what Elizabeth did and how she had made me feel. But I knew that this wasn’t the right time.

My son was truly happy with his bride, and that’s how I intended for him to be. I walked to my car, feeling a sense of satisfaction. I had shown Elizabeth that I wouldn’t be disrespected, and it was something that she would have to take into her marriage with my son. And the best part was that my relationship with Jimmy remained strong, and that was what mattered most.

From that day forward, Elizabeth treated me with newfound respect. She realized that I was not to be trifled with.