Up until the moment the restaurant doors burst open, my birthday supper was absolutely wonderful. When my stepmother arrived, she yelled at me and accused me of being “disloyal to the family” for not adhering to the rigid dietary requirements that she and my stepbrother had established. Immediately prior to my ability to answer, another individual stood forward to defend me.
For the past seven years, ever since my father tied the knot with Diane, I had been keeping my mouth shut.
When I was 15 years old, she abruptly appeared in my life like a cyclone. Because she lives in a different part of the nation, I was never able to meet her daughter; nevertheless, I became very familiar with her son, Nathan.
The fact that he is allergic to shellfish and peanuts is very reasonable. It is clear to me. Allergic reactions are serious conditions, and I would never want to put anyone in harm’s way.
This is where things start to become ridiculous.
During the time that I was living at home, his diet consisted of solely pizza (either cheese or beef), fries, beef burgers, and tacos prepared with beef and cheese. Even his sweets were predictable; they consisted of nothing but chocolate and ice cream. And that’s it.
Even if he and Diane had not made each and every meal into a show, I would not have cared about it in the slightest.
If you were to recommend a fine Italian restaurant to Nathan, he would groan loudly and shove his chair back, causing the sound to reverberate throughout the entire home.
“I’ll just stay home,” he would mutter, “because that place wouldn’t make me a pizza without sauce the last time I went there.”
Diane would clutch his shoulder as if he were a vulnerable child who was passing away, and all of a sudden, the entire night would concentrate around their complaints about each other.
On the other hand, Diane was even worse. That is a lot worse.
A number of items, including rice, pasta, bread, potatoes, and fish, were on Diane’s own list of things she would not consume. She seems to be personally offended by fifty percent of the dietary groupings.
That is not a problem. She had the ability to consume whatever she desired, but I also witnessed her returning chicken that had been grilled because the grill marks were not absolutely even.
You did indeed read that correctly. Due to the uneven grill marks, a completely new plate was required.
Additionally, she yelled at the waiter about it, and that was the most unacceptable thing that could have happened.
Are you familiar with the individuals who adopt a vegan diet and then make their pets consume vegan food as well? Aside from the fact that I was the pet, it was me during family dinners.
Diane would sniff and wipe at her eyes whenever my father and I considered going to a restaurant or fast-food joint that was not on their list of restaurants or fast-food joints that they were comfortable with.
In any case, I suppose that Nathan and I will have no choice but to sit there and starve to death while you all enjoy the food that we are unable to consume.
Individuals, the guilt trips were of the highest kind.
On the day that I finally moved out of my apartment, one of the first things that I did was prepare a pan of shrimp pasta that was tossed in a vivid pesto and steamed in garlic.
The parmesan and roasted cherry tomatoes were so shiny that they looked like candy, and I piled them on top of each other.
After eating it right from the pan, I determined that I would never again allow anyone else to control the meals that I ate.
When I decided to celebrate my birthday this year with a low-key supper, I was aware that I needed to restrict the number of people there.
It would be just me, my fiance Ryan, my mother, and a few close friends, eating whatever we wanted without having to deal with Nathan or Diane glaring at our plates in a dramatic manner and giving out sighs that were so loud that they could sink a ship.
As soon as I informed my father about my plans, he inquired as to whether or not Diane and Nathan would be attending.
I took a few long breaths before uttering the words that I had been keeping to myself for many years:
It is not. I’m sorry, but all I want is to have a meal without dealing with any kind of food drama or one of their public outbursts, like they’ve just discovered a mound of dead bugs under their food because the kitchen refused to make any adjustments for them.
For his disappointment, for the guilt trip, and for the lecture about the importance of family togetherness, I prepared myself psychologically.
Dad sighed after pausing for a considerable amount of time. “All right, sweetheart. It makes sense to me. This coming week, I will meet with you separately.
So, that ought to have been the conclusion of it, right? No way.
The restaurant was warm and inviting, with dim lighting. During the time that my friends were reminiscing about their college days, my fiance was gently squeezing my hand under the table, and my mother was making a toast that caused tears to well up in my eyes.
At precisely two hours, everything was going according to plan, but then the entrance to the restaurant suddenly crashed open like if a storm had just struck.
As Diane rushed in like she was one of the main characters in a drama series, everyone in the place turned their heads, and my stomach dropped slightly.
After detecting a mouse in the open field, her eyes fixed on me like a hawk might on a mouse.
She yelled out in a volume that was high enough to silence the entire restaurant, “You self-centered brat!” I was wondering whether it was too difficult for you to choose a restaurant that could accommodate both Nathan and my demands so that your father and I could celebrate your birthday with you.
My face was ablaze. The forks came to a stop in the middle of the air, and my friends gazed at me as if I were playing a crazy reality show.
But Diane was just beginning to warm up.
As soon as she arrived at the table, she made the proclamation, “You’ve always been like this.” She paused for a while to look towards her audience. “You are a complete and utter jerk, and you never give any consideration to your family.”
I opened my mouth to answer, to defend myself, and to make an effort to preserve the limited amount of dignity I had left for my birthday.
On the other hand, my mother quietly put her wine glass down and stood up.
The expression on her face was as icy as ice, and her shoulders were straight.
My mother spoke to me in a tone that cut through the silence like a knife. “Diane, you will sit down, lower your voice, and stop making a fool of yourself in public,” she said. This is not a competition for the title of Most Dramatic Stepmother; rather, it is the birthday of my daughter.
It’s possible that you heard a fork fall.
A fish out of water, Diane’s mouth gaped open as she halted in the middle of her outburst.
“This,” Mom said to Diane with a motion, “is precisely the reason why you were not invited.” You are unable to succeed in any endeavor without making it about you and Nathan. It would be more convenient for you to dine at home and still enjoy the company if it were only about the food, but you can’t do that.
“No… On no occasion is it just the meal. “The waiter ‘gave you a weird look,’” Mom continued. “It’s the chairs, the lighting, and more than that, it’s the waiter.” “You are the victim of the night because there is always some enormous injustice that happens to you.”
In spite of the fact that Diane’s face was turning crimson, Mom was able to quiet her with a swift and pointed motion the instant she opened her mouth to speak.
“It is not appropriate for you to humiliate my daughter for refusing to comply with your unreasonable requests. You do not have the right to frame her as the antagonist in this situation. “And you certainly do not have the right to call her “selfish” in public when she has gone out of her way for years to put up with you,” you said.
This unfolded before my eyes as if it were taking place in slow motion.
The person who has always been the mediator and has always tried to keep things quiet was my mother, and she was absolutely dismantling my stepmother in front of the entire restaurant by doing so.
When a waiter approached hesitantly, it was obvious that he was uncertain about whether or not he should interfere, but my mother waived him off with hardly a glance.
The tone of her voice was solemn as she stated, “So, here is what is going to happen, Diane.”
“You are going to turn around, leave this restaurant, and allow my daughter to enjoy the rest of her birthday without you making any complaints,” she said. And if you are unable to accomplish that without making a scene, then I suppose that just supports my argument regarding the reasons why you were not welcome in this place in the first place to begin with.
Someone in the nearby diner managed to hide a giggle.
The eyes of Diane skittered all about. As soon as she noticed that everyone in the restaurant was watching her, her lips became more tense.
The attention that was focused on her was not in the way that she had hoped it would be.
At the same time that they were hardly concealing their smiles and smirks, people were muttering behind their hands.
While he was recording the entire event, a young man who was sitting at an adjacent table with his parents was not doing a very good job of concealing his phone beneath the menu.
With the same dramatic flair that she had brought with her when she entered the room, Diane muttered something angry under her breath, spun on her heel, and walked out of the room.
My mother returned to her seat, took a few sips of her wine, and then asked, “Now, where were we with that story about your college roommate?” when she sat back down.
Regrettably, however, that was not the ending of it.
Dad sent me a text message later that evening.
It seemed as though Diane was pouting in the car, claiming that the only reason she wanted to teach me etiquette was because she found my mother to be “totally out of line.”
He was making an effort to maintain his neutrality, but I could tell that he was exhausted.
Could you please send her an SMS message? He sent me a message.
On the other hand, I was finished. I have finished remaining silent, I have finished fabricating excuses, and I have finished allowing mom to cast me as the Ungrateful Stepdaughter in her never-ending drama production.
I chose not to respond to Diane’s petty message in which she complained about how I had “ripped the family apart” and how “family coming first” was her top priority. However, I did not take the bait.
Because my mother gave me the best birthday present I could have asked for: she made it abundantly apparent that Diane would no longer be able to bully me during my birthday celebration.
The next time Diane considers disrupting my life or launching one of her public tantrums, what will happen? The night that she was put in her place by a lady who is aware of the distinction between compromise and manipulation is going to be one that she will never forget.