Oh, my daughter-in-law Alice has really gone and declared war on me. She’s given me this ultimatum—either I apologise to her, or I’ll never see my grandson again. But what on earth do I have to apologise for? She’s the one who’s been rude and disrespectful to me and my family for years! Her behaviour is downright shameful, and now she has the nerve to blackmail me? I’m not one to stay quiet. She’d better be the one ready to apologise because I won’t back down!
The first time I met Alice in our little town of Winchester, it was a proper shock. She walked into my house and immediately started wiping her feet on me. I knew right then—this girl wasn’t just “straightforward” like she claims, she’s downright nasty. There’s a difference between honesty and rudeness, but Alice doesn’t seem to get that.
She started criticising my flat the second she stepped in. “This decor is so outdated,” she said with this sneer. “It’s like stepping into the last century, nothing like my parents’ place.” And then, sitting down on a chair, she pulled a face: “Is this even going to hold me? Looks like it’s about to fall apart! I’d like to live, thanks!”
I barely stopped myself from snapping, “Maybe if you ate less, the furniture would last longer.” But I bit my tongue. My son, James, was looking at her like she hung the moon, and for his sake, I kept quiet. Inside, though, I was fuming.
“Wow, you put mayo in everything, don’t you?” she carried on, smirking. “No surprise there—this house is clearly all about greasy food.”
I glanced at her figure and thought, “And you’re lecturing me about diets?” But again, I stayed silent. Sure, I’m no size zero, but I’ve had three kids, and age catches up with you. And here she is, young and acting like she’s got the right to judge? James was smitten, but I could feel righteous anger bubbling up inside me.
From that day on, Alice never missed a chance to big up her family and put me and James down. The snide remarks never stopped—my clothes were “granny-ish,” our house was “dingy.” I tried to see her less, but every meeting was like a trial. I don’t brag about my home—it’s modest but cosy. I wear loose clothes to hide my flaws. But who gave her the right to tell me what to wear to their wedding?
“Try not to stand out too much among the guests,” she tossed at me, eyeing my outfit.
The wedding was a nightmare. Alice didn’t just snipe at me—she was rude to her own parents too. They sat there, smiling weakly, and I thought, “If my daughter spoke to me like that, I’d put her in her place!” But I held my tongue, for James’ sake.
When Alice was pregnant, I was busy helping my other daughter-in-law, who had no parents and was raising a child almost alone. I lived with them for six months, looking after my second grandchild. When I got back, Alice had already given birth. I went round to meet the baby, thrilled about my new grandson. Everything was fine until we sat down for tea. I showed James photos of the gifts from my daughter Emily, who was also pregnant and couldn’t make it.
“Blimey, she’s huge!” Alice huffed, looking at the photo. “How does her husband even stand it?”
I was speechless. Emily had put on weight because of her hormones—she’d been on bed rest for months, fighting to keep her baby. Her health was hanging by a thread, and Alice dares to judge? She’s the one who came out of childbirth looking like a pudding! Her pregnancy was smooth, but she’d piled on the pounds. I didn’t want to stoop to her level, but she crossed a line.
I lost it. Told her exactly what I thought—about her poisonous tongue, her awful attitude, how she looked despite all her nasty comments. Then I turned on my heel and left. And you know what? I don’t feel a shred of regret. Not one bit.
A few days later, James came round. Said Alice is demanding an apology, or I’ll never see my grandson again. I told him to pass on a message—she’s the one who should be apologising for all her nastiness! Trying to blackmail me? She can choke on her ultimatum! I’ve got other grandchildren, and I won’t grovel to someone like her. I’ve had enough of her antics. Let her know—I won’t be pushed around.