My MIL Called Me Ungrateful for Not Eating Food She Cooked While I Was on a Pre-Surgery Diet, and My Husband Backed Her Up

My husband, Dave, and I have always had a solid relationship. Sure, like most couples, there are ups and downs, but we handle them pretty well in general.

Except when it comes to his mom, Margaret.

Margaret has a knack for inserting herself into our lives, often under the pretense of being helpful. She’ll just drop by unannounced, often claiming to be worried about how I’m taking care of her son.

“Mel, it’s just my mom’s way of showing her love,” Dave would say, dismissing it all. “She’s always been so dramatic, and that’s just one of those things.”

But to me, it just felt invasive.

Recently, things took quite a turn for the worse. I have a chronic condition that requires surgery on my spine. As a result, my doctor has put me on a strict pre-surgery diet.

“It’s not going to be great, Mel,” he told me when I went for my last check-up. “But it’s necessary, I promise you. We need you to cut down on your body weight so that after the surgery, the stress on your spine will be less.”

I understood the assignment, and I was committed to my health.

“Look, honey,” I told Dave when I went home after my appointment. “You don’t have to change your diet at all. I’ll still get you everything you want to eat, and cook what you want, too. But there’s a bunch of food that I have to avoid.”

“No,” my husband reassured me. “I’ll do it with you. Just put the list of forbidden items on the fridge, and I’ll know what to avoid.”

I had to admit, I was surprised by Dave. This man loved his fried food. The greasier the better when it came to my husband’s diet. But this change was good for both of us, and I loved that he was being supportive.

So, we began diligently avoiding sugar, limiting carbs, and eating lots of greens and lean proteins. It was quite the lifestyle change, but I knew that it was going to be worth it in the end.

But then, Margaret turned up like a thorn in my side.

Last weekend, as I was reading in our home office, Margaret showed up with bags full of groceries.

Without even asking, she started preparing Dave’s favorite meal: fried chicken, mashed potatoes drenched in butter, and a decadent chocolate cake.

“Do you need any help?” I asked her when I realized that she was about to cook up a storm.

“No, darling,” she said. “You go and relax; I’m fine here.”

So, I let her take over the kitchen. The aroma filled the house, and I felt my stomach rumble. But I knew that I couldn’t eat any of it. On one hand, I felt that Margaret was being inappropriate, but on the other hand, I was glad that Dave was getting some good food that he enjoyed.

When dinner was ready, I politely declined.

“I’m really sorry, Margaret,” I began, while taking out my salad greens and leftover grilled chicken from the fridge.

“What are you doing?” she asked, looking at the food that I laid out on the counter, ready to make myself dinner.

“There’s more than enough food, Mel. You don’t need to make more,” she huffed.

“I’m just making my dinner,” I said slowly. “As incredible as your meal smells and looks, I can’t eat any of it. I’m on a strict diet for my surgery. I cannot afford to have any slip-ups.”

Instead of understanding the situation like any rational person, my mother-in-law’s face twisted in displeasure.

“Oh, come on, Mel,” she said. “I worked really hard on this meal; just a little won’t hurt.”

“I appreciate it, and I’m so grateful that you’re here and that you cooked this meal for Dave, but I just cannot risk it. This surgery is too important,” I insisted.

Cue the meltdown.

She started muttering under her breath about how ungrateful I was, making a big show of serving Dave a heaping plate of food. I felt a knot form in my stomach, not from hunger, but from the tension.

Then, she turned to Dave.

“Isn’t it a shame? I go through all this trouble, and she can’t even try a bite of it.”

I looked at my husband, expecting him to defend me. Instead, he shrugged and put a forkful of mashed potato into his mouth.

“Maybe just have a small bite, honey,” he said with his mouth full. “Just be polite. Have a piece of chicken and some mash.”

I couldn’t believe it. He was the person who didn’t mind changing up his diet and his routine because he wanted to support me. What was this? What was this change of behavior?

“Dave, you know I can’t. It’s not just about being polite. It’s about my health. You know I only have a few weeks to get ready.”

Margaret’s eyes narrowed as she picked up a plate for herself.

“It’s just one meal, Melissa. I don’t see what the big deal is. Is that really how you speak to my son? And you’re making me feel like my food isn’t good enough for you.”

“That’s not it at all, Margaret,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm. “I’m sure the food is delicious as always, but I need to be strict here. I cannot afford any setbacks. This is my spine we’re talking about!”

“Oh, please,” she scoffed. “You’re just being overly dramatic. People have been eating real food like this for centuries without all these modern health scares.”

I could feel the heat rise in my blood. My anger was building, and so was my disappointment.

But before things could escalate further, the doorbell rang.

It was George, my father-in-law, dropping by to pick up some tools. He walked into the kitchen just as Margaret was going on about how I was “too good” for her cooking.

George surveyed the scene quickly and then looked directly at Margaret.

“Margaret, you know she’s on a diet for her surgery. This isn’t about politeness or niceties. It’s about Mel’s health. She has been trying to sort out her spine issues for years now, Marg, you know this,” he said. “You need to respect that.”

Margaret opened her mouth to argue, but George didn’t give her a chance.

“If you can’t respect their boundaries, maybe you should stop coming over unannounced.”

I was stunned.

George had never intervened in these situations before, and to see him take such a strong stance was both surprising and incredibly comforting.

Margaret stormed out of the dining room, clearly upset, but George stayed behind.

“Oh, gosh,” my husband muttered, putting his piece of chicken down as he pushed his chair back to run after his mother.

George turned to me with a kind smile.

“You did the right thing. Don’t worry about Margaret; she’ll come around,” he said. “Your health is so important.”

Dave came running back in, looking thoroughly chastened.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have said anything or tried to force you to eat any of this. I just didn’t want to upset Mom, but I realize now that I should have supported you.”

George nodded approvingly.

“You’re right, Dave. This is your family, and you need to prioritize your wife’s well-being.”

“Please, you two carry on eating,” I said, returning to the kitchen. “I’m going to make some salad.”

While I was in the kitchen, I saw Margaret sitting on the bench outside. I could have gone to her, but I hated the way she had spoken to me.

Later, after the three of us had eaten, George took Margaret home.

As we got into bed, Dave apologized to me again and promised to be more supportive in the future.

It felt good to clear the air, but I couldn’t shake the feeling of unease. Before they left, Margaret had just walked past us, not even saying goodbye.

Anyway, I still had bigger things to worry about. My surgery was more important.

What would you have done?

If you enjoyed this story, here’s another one for you |

My Husband Abandoned Me during Labor to Help His Mom with Groceries – He Soon Learned His Lesson

When Aria is in labor with her and Dave’s firstborn baby, she’s horrified to see him leave the hospital just because his mother called. Things get worse when Aria discovers that the reason was because Dave needed to help with his mother’s groceries. What is Aria going to do next?

I never imagined I’d be writing this, but here I am, needing to vent and share the valuable lesson my husband learned the hard way.

I’m 32 and stepping into motherhood. My husband, Dave, is 34 and has always had a bit of a complicated relationship with his mother.

Marlene is the type of mother who called for every little thing, expecting him to drop everything and come as soon as she needed.

“Hey, Aria,” Dave would say. “Mom needs me, I’ll be right back.”

And he would dash out of the house, ready to save the day.

I used to find it endearing until the day I went into labor. I was at 38 weeks, and I knew that the time was coming.

One evening, I felt the contractions start. Everything was going smoothly until I was about six hours into the agonizing labor.

“Just breathe, darling,” Dave said, squeezing my hand. “Before you know it, our little girl will be here!”

But then, Dave’s phone rang, and he quickly stepped out into the hall to take the call. When he came back, he seemed a bit agitated.

Read the full story here.

This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.