"When my mom remarried, she pulled me into her closet and handed me a long flowery dress and silver flats. I was 30. I wanted to wear my navy dress and high heels. "I have an outfit," I told her. "It's my wedding," she said. "Can't you, for once, just do what I ask?" For 55 years, my mom and I have been at each other - constantly poking the soft spots and picking at scabs."
"She judged and gave unsolicited advice. I sassed and spoke my mind, often hurting her feelings. I wanted a mom who I could trust with my secrets instead of one who chided me when I came home drunk and then ratted me out to her manicurist. I wanted a mom who remembered my friend's names and invited us on girls' trips. Most of all, I wanted a mom who loved me no matter what."
""Once again," my mom said, "you've left your dirty pot in the sink." I rolled my eyes and walked to my room with a full plate. "If you keep eating macaroni and cheese, you're going to get fat." "Mind your own business," I told her. "I'm your mother. You are my business." "I hate you!" I screamed and slammed my bedroom door. She screamed back, "I hope you have a kid just like you!""
A thirty-year-old woman is forced into a wedding outfit by her remarried mother, illustrating a pattern of control and clash. The pair have spent fifty-five years trading judgments, unsolicited advice, sass, and hurtful comments. The daughter expresses a longing for trust, secrets kept, remembered friends, shared outings, and unconditional love, while acknowledging persistent cruelty beyond adolescence. Repeated exchanges center on chores, appearance, food, and personal choices, often erupting into shouted accusations and wishes for reciprocal suffering. A parental divorce and later confrontations continue the cycle of criticism and emotional distance.
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