My fiancé’s mother has always done her best to exclude me from family occasions. Her mantra was clear: I would be embraced as part of the family once Joaquin and I were married and not a moment before. However, she soon realized how her treatment toward me backfired. Suddenly, she changed.
A woman with her husband and son | Source: Getty Images
My fiancé’s mother would often tell me to my face, “Once you’re married to Joaquin, then you’ll be family.” She was basically implying that until the wedding bells rang, I was just a temporary fixture.
An older woman whispering to a girl | Source: Getty Images
It was hard not to feel sidelined. However, I didn’t feel singled out since Joaquin’s brother’s girlfriend endured the same cold shoulder. Despite my future mother-in-law’s actions, I never harbored any resentment towards her because, frankly, it seemed to stem from a place of fear — fear of losing her boys to their partners.
Mother and son talking | Source: Getty Images
She used to be all about keeping her “little boy” — yeah, that’s my fiancé — to herself. She literally cried for days when we moved in together and even faked a heart attack when he proposed! Can you imagine? We were floating on cloud nine, and then suddenly, drama.
A newly engaged couple hugging | Source: Getty Images
Even after Joaquin proposed, his mother’s attitude remained unchanged. For three years, she wouldn’t invite me to family dinners, not even for Thanksgiving or Christmas. Her reason then was the same; it was because I was “only the fiancée” and it was supposed to be “family only.”
An older woman talking to a girl | Source: Getty Images
Don’t get me started on the family photos; I was always left out. I felt pretty rotten to be standing there, watching them snap away, knowing I wasn’t welcome to be in the picture. It honestly would have been great if they had a family picture and another with the significant others.
Several polaroid pictures | Source: Pexels
But guess what? Recently, everything changed when she suddenly started begging to be included in our plans. So, future MIL caught wind (thanks to Joaquin blabbing) of my wedding dress shopping plans.
The wedding dress shopping was an intimate, girls-only moment with my mom and sister. She called me up, assuming she was invited. When I told her it was just going to be us, there was dead silence.
“Hi Claudia, I heard your wedding dress shopping will be this weekend. Where and what time should I come?”
“Oh, yes, it is this weekend. It will just be my mom, my sister, and me. It’s for family only, I’m sure you understand.’”
It took about a minute before my future MIL could speak. After a while, she finally said, “Oh, okay. I have to go. Bye.”
Joaquin, his brother, and his brother’s girlfriend couldn’t stop laughing when they heard about it. They thought I nailed it with the “family only” line. However, Joaquin’s youngest brother thought I was being too harsh on their mom, saying I should’ve considered her feelings since she has no daughters to share these things with.
I understand, but after all the exclusion, I just wanted one day without any drama. After all, she never treated me like a daughter, so why should I include her?
Not long after, she tried to pull this stunt where she sent Joaquin a list of “appropriate” dress styles for me. It was basically a list of gowns she did not like. Some included no strapless, no halter, no sweetheart neckline, no high-slit, no see-through, not too tight, and not too much cleavage. She wanted me to look “classy.”
Joaquin refused to tolerate it and confronted his mother. He told her to stop meddling with the wedding dress because she wasn’t the bride, not even the bride’s mother. He hugged me tight and told me not to listen to his mom.
“In one ear, out the other,” he said. He reassured me that our wedding day was about us and our happiness. He even joked that I should pick whatever dress made me feel most beautiful, regardless of his mom’s “rules.”
Meanwhile, MIL was left stewing in her own juice, anxious about what I’d chosen. Her attempts to control the situation through a list of dress “rules” only fueled my resolve.
Our wedding day came, and I walked down the aisle in everything she hated. I wore a strapless gown that showed a little cleavage. Still, I kept it elegant. My dress was fitted in the upper part and flowed beautifully on the skirt. Although my wedding dress did not have a high slit, my reception gown did.
I could feel her eyes glaring at my dress. It was a mixture of shock, disbelief, and dare I say, a bit of realization. The moment was electric.
But truly, walking down the aisle, I felt as if I had won the lottery. I felt beautiful and like the luckiest woman ever as I walked toward the man of my dreams. I may not like my MIL as much, but wow I love her son.
At the reception, my fiancé made it a point to take many photos with me, prominently featuring me in the middle of his family. It was his subtle way of showing that I was indeed part of the family, no matter what his mother had previously implied. We made sure to get a few extra glamour shots, just the two of us, showcasing the dress in all its glory.
Later in the evening, when the atmosphere had warmed up after a few dances and toasts, my MIL approached me. I braced for a confrontation, but instead, she quietly complimented my dress.
“You look beautiful,” she admitted, her voice low. It wasn’t a grand apology, but in that moment, her words felt like a small victory. “Welcome to the family,” she added.
And here’s the twist — post-wedding, my MIL’s attitude began to change. Perhaps seeing her son genuinely happy and the joy of the day softened her.
Or maybe it was the realization that her antics could push her away from not just one, but all of her sons if she continued down that path. Slowly, we started seeing more inclusiveness from her, and even my future sister-in-law mentioned that MIL had begun treating her a bit better.
So, that’s the scoop. Turning the tables was a bit risky, but it seems like it might have just paid off. Was it too harsh? Maybe a little, but sometimes you’ve got to stand up for yourself.