Three weeks after giving birth, I was still learning how to feel like myself again when my MIL asked me to step out of her birthday photo so everyone else could “fit.” My husband said nothing, and I swallowed the humiliation. Ten minutes later, she came rushing toward me, pale, asking what I’d done.
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I changed my shirt three times before Layla’s birthday party.
She came rushing toward me, pale.
The first one pulled too tightly across my stomach.
The second technically fit, but made me feel like I was hiding beneath a curtain.
The third was a soft crepe blouse I’d owned before pregnancy.
I managed the buttons.
I stood in front of our bedroom mirror and tugged the hem lower.
The third was a soft crepe blouse I’d owned before pregnancy.
“Does this look okay?”
Jesse sat on the edge of the bed wrestling one of Aria’s tiny socks onto an even tinier foot.
He glanced up.
“You look fine, Anne.”
I stared at him.
“Fine?”
His hands froze.
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Aria kicked the sock straight onto the floor.
“Beautiful. I meant beautiful.”
“You look fine, Anne.”
I rolled my eyes. “Good correction.”
“I panicked.”
“You should.”
He grinned and reached for the sock again.
My phone buzzed on the dresser.
A message from Layla.
Wear something nice. We’re taking pictures.
I picked up my cardigan.
“Let’s go before your mother sends me an approved color palette.”
Wear something nice. We’re taking pictures.
He laughed.
I didn’t.
Because Layla had been giving me unsolicited instructions about my appearance for months.
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“That cut isn’t doing much for you.”
“Jesse always liked women who dressed feminine.”
After Aria was born, those comments stung.
“Jesse always liked women who dressed feminine.”
One afternoon, Layla looked at my stomach and said, “My friend Daisy was back in jeans two weeks after her second.”
Another time, she arrived carrying a black cardigan.
“This would hide things beautifully.”
And every time, Jesse gave me some version of the same sentence afterward.
“Mom doesn’t think before she talks.”
“This would hide things beautifully.”
The last time, I’d finally answered him.
“She thinks, Jesse. She just assumes I won’t say anything.”
He hadn’t known what to say.
So we had both let the silence sit there.
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That was becoming our mistake.
***
Joe opened the front door before we knocked.
“There she is!”
We had both let the silence sit there.
I smiled at my father-in-law.
“Hello, Joe.”
He walked straight past me and reached for Aria.
Then kissed my cheek.
“You’re lovely. Baby’s cuter.”
“At least you’re honest,” I said.
He carried Aria inside like he’d personally been appointed head of security.
Someone brought me food without asking me to get up.
“At least you’re honest.”
Jesse kept checking whether I needed water.
Layla kissed my cheek, then looked at my blouse.