On my mother-in-laws birthday, I dumped a plate of spaghetti on her head and kicked out her friendsall because I overheard what they said
The past year had been the toughest of my life. After losing my job, my husband and I could no longer afford our flat. He was covering all the bills, but soon it became clear: we needed help. We had to move into my mother-in-laws house. Humiliating? Absolutely. But we had no choice.
From day one, living under her roof was a nightmare. She criticised everythingthe way I cooked, cleaned, even how I spoke. And every time I dared to argue, shed throw the same line in my face:
*”If you dont like it, youre welcome to pack your bags and leave.”*
I bit my tongue, but the anger simmered. Then came the day my patience finally snapped.
It was her birthday, and she insisted *I* cook dinnerwanted to show off her daughter-in-laws skills to her best mates. I played along, bought decent ingredients, and spent all day making spaghetti bolognese.
At first, things seemed fine. They smiled, laughed, even complimented the food. For a second, I wondered if Id been too harsh about them. But the moment I stepped into the kitchen, I heard the whispering.
I stormed back into the lounge, grabbed the plate of spaghetti, and tipped it straight onto her head. She burst into tears instantly, while her friends cackled even louder.
Glaring at them, I snapped:
*”Thats what you get, you miserable cow! And as for you lotif youre not here to scrape pasta off her head, get out of this house right now!”*
They shut up fast, eyes down, and scurried out like startled pigeons.
So, what did they say to deserve that? Read on
I heard my mother-in-law rasp:
*”Wont be long now. Ive made her life hell, and my plans working perfectly.”*
One friend chirped in:
*”My daughter still fancies your son. Shes waiting for him to divorce this one. Dont worryhell forget her quick enough.”*
Another smirked:
*”What if the daughter-in-law gets pregnant? Hed never leave her then. Whats your plan for that?”*
But the worst came from my mother-in-law herself:
*”Oh, thats sorted. Ive been slipping pills into her foodno chance of a baby. My boy deserves better than that useless tart.”*
Those words hit harder than a slap. So I marched in, grabbed the spaghetti, and gave her a saucy new hairdo.
The next day, my husband and I packed our bags and left. Havent spoken to her since.
