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Shortly after F and I were engaged, his mother came to Florence to stay with us for the weekend. Since we never knew how she would react on any given day, we tried not to talk about it around her if possible. Sometimes she would get only mildly annoyed and pound the dough a little harder than necessary, or sigh loudly while brandishing a wooden spoon at her tomato sauce, but other times she went all out. Other times it was like she was competing in the dramatic Italian Olympics. It was a lot like a movie.
It was offensive and hurt my feelings, but more than anything my husband had fully ingested the shame. Even I started to feel naughty at some point but that was less about the wedding talk and more about being physically violated. Having his mother in Florence, alone, was supposed to be a bonding experience. He thought that I could actually win her over somehow and then she would magically support us.
Anyway, things were comfortably awkward for once instead of terrible. The weekend started out nice. It was like watching a cobra strike at a mouse. I rolled my eyes and fell back asleep immediately because I do not wake before 8: When we awoke later I stumbled into the kitchen to find the kitchen spotless, as if it had been cleaned by elves on meth.
One of my super skanky thongs. Next to that thong were about 10 others that had already been strong-armed into paper-like flatness.
He smiled and headed for the coffee. Anything that touches my vagina and goes up my ass is off-limits to her! F just shrugged and gave her suggestions on what he wanted to eat for lunch.