A youthful groom embarked on the journey of matrimony.
His mother, advanced in years, resided under his roof. One evening, as they gathered for supper, his wife abruptly excused herself, retiring to their chamber. Observing her departure, the elder woman advised: “Son, tend to her well. Ensure she does not endure hunger. Look after your wife”.
Concerned for his beloved, he sought her out. “My dear, are you unwell? Why dine alone?” he inquired. She hesitated: “I cannot. The sight of your mother’s hands… it unsettles me”.
Wrinkled and weathered, those hands bore the weight of untold sacrifices. Yet, to his wife, they were a source of discomfort. “What would you propose?” he inquired. She suggested: “Perhaps a nursing home would be best”. Assuring her, he vowed: “Fear not, my love. Tomorrow, we shall resolve this. But first, we must honor our invitation to your parents’ abode. Upon our return, I shall arrange for my mother’s care”.
The following day, accompanied by his wife and mother, they visited her family. Noticeably absent from the table was his mother. Sensing his unease, his wife assured: “She dines alone, in another room”.
Perplexed, he inquired: “Did you instruct her to seclude herself?” She affirmed: “Indeed”.
As the meal commenced, the father-in-law broached the delicate topic. “Son-in-law, our daughter’s happiness is paramount. She deserves a home solely with you. Resolve this matter regarding your mother”, he urged.
Reassuring them, he pledged: “Rest assured, we shall address it today”.
Despite the spread before him, he abstained. “Why do you not partake?” queried the father-in-law. With conviction, he declared: “I cannot. Your hands… they taint my appetite. They mirror your hearts!” His wife was taken aback.
Rising from the table, he sought out his mother, kneeling beside her. Tears streaming, he kissed her hands, imploring: “Come, mother, let us depart”.
Perplexed, she questioned: “But, son, where are we bound?” Overwhelmed, he simply wept. Loading her into the car, he whispered: “To Paradise, mother… to Paradise! Lead me to Paradise, if you are content with me”.
My Cousin Deliberately Made My Wedding Dress Two Sizes Too Small – She Was Astonished When She Saw How I Handled It
The rest of the evening went off without a hitch. I was surrounded by the people who loved me, and even more, my cousin wanted to do something so intimate by making me a wedding dress.
Everything felt right.
We spent weeks choosing the design and fabrics. We pored over the magazines and websites, and finally, I had an idea in mind.
One day, I met Sarah at her office, ready to take my final measurements so that she could start with my dress.
“You’re going to look amazing,” she said, taking my measurements precisely, jotting down everything carefully on her writing pad.
“Oh, I hope so,” I said, taking a sip of my coffee as Sarah put her measuring tape away. “I’ve been on a strict diet, and I’m finally happy with my weight. So, it’s just about maintaining my figure now.”
“You look good, Jess,” she said. “But if anything changes and you find yourself losing or gaining weight, just let me know, and you can come in for another fitting.”
I nodded and left, eager to see how my dress was going to turn out.
But when I went for the final fitting, things took a turn.
I slipped into the dress, but something was wrong—it was way too small. I couldn’t even zip it up, no matter how hard I sucked in my breath.
“Jess! Are you crazy to gain weight before the wedding?” Sarah asked, her tone dripping with mock concern.
My heart sank. We were two weeks away from the wedding, and judging from this fitting, I didn’t have a dress.
“I haven’t gained any weight, Sarah,” I replied. “I’ve been too stressed to eat. If anything, I should have lost weight because of that!”
Sarah shrugged, barely concealing a smirk that was plastered onto her face.
“Well, I’ll try to fix it, but with the wedding so close, I can’t make any promises. I have other clients waiting for their orders, too, Jess.”
Her words rang loud and clear in my head as I drove away from her office.
And then it hit me — this wasn’t an accident. I recalled the way she spoke to me, and the tone in her voice. There was no remorse in her mistake. There was no mix-up in measurements. There was no weight gain with me.
This was deliberate, and Sarah had made the dress too small on purpose.
“I don’t know what to do,” I told Michael when he got home that evening.
“Show me the dress?” he asked, pouring himself a glass of water.
“What! No!” I exclaimed. “The dress may be a mess, but it’s bad luck for you to see!”
“Look, why don’t you take the dress to Mrs. Lawson? She’s my mom’s friend, and she does all her alterations. She’s making Mom’s dress for the wedding, too.”
So, I gathered the awful dress and went to Mrs. Lawson, who was a retired seamstress with a reputation for miracles.
“Oh, honey,” she said when I walked in. “Michael phoned me and told me all about the mess. But I’ve seen the worst and made it a hundred times better.”
“This might be tricky, though,” I said, showing her the dress.
“Honey, I’ve seen it all, trust me. Let’s make this work,” she chuckled.
Together, we transformed the original design into something completely new. A chic, short, cocktail-style dress that was bold, unconventional, and a bit edgy for a wedding.
But it was absolutely stunning. It was everything Sarah’s dress wasn’t: fun, flirty, and perfectly me.
When it was time to walk down the aisle, my heart raced. I stood in the bridal suite of the wedding venue and looked at myself in the mirror. I looked beautiful. I felt beautiful.
As my dad walked into the room to get me, his jaw dropped.
“My darling,” he said. “You look incredible! Wow!”
“Thanks, Dad,” I said. “I know it’s not what we all envisioned me wearing for my wedding, but it’s been the best surprise. I feel like a bride.”
“That’s the only thing that matters, darling,” he said.
Soon, my entrance music began, and goosebumps appeared all over my body as a classical version of a Lana Del Rey song took over the room.
Heads turned.
And I felt the buzz of admiration follow me as people watched me walk in. I knew that my dress was a hit.
When I got closer to Michael, his eyes widened, and his smile took over his face. I knew then that the man I was about to marry fell in love with me all over again.
But before I took my place next to Michael, I turned to Sarah, wanting to see her expression first.
Her face was priceless: she was pale and shocked. I knew she had expected to see me in tears, humiliated by her sabotage and wearing that horrible dress she had designed.
Instead, I was glowing, smiling from ear to ear.
The ceremony went off without a hitch, Michael’s vows leaving me in tears and my heart full of love for the man I was going to spend the rest of my life with.
But then came the reception.
Michael and I were mingling with our guests when Sarah cornered me.
“Jess, what happened to the dress? Where’s my original design? Why did you change it?” she asked, trying to hide her confusion.
I grinned.
“Oh, I thought I’d take your design and make it better! Remember, you weren’t even sure that you could do anything about it. And I was bursting out of it because it was at least two sizes too small.”
“So, that’s it? You just threw away my hard work?” she gasped. “That’s low!”
“No, Sarah, your work is the foundation of this dress. It’s just a hundred times better because the woman who fixed it wanted me to look and feel beautiful on my wedding day.”
Her mouth opened, but no words came out. Around us, guests kept complimenting my dress, calling it unique and stunning.
Sarah had no choice but to stand there and listen.
“Come on, love,” Michael called to me. “Let’s do our first dance so that I can really get into the buffet after! The roast beef is to die for!”
“I’m coming,” I smiled, finally happy.
What would you have done?
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