I just don’t understand my mom’s priorities. She recently turned 70 and decided to splurge on a designer dress that cost $1,800—just to wear to her book club and the occasional get-together with friends.
Meanwhile, my son is about to start college, and every bit of financial support could make a difference.
I’m struggling with this. My mom has always been practical, always putting family first. This felt out of character. That money could’ve actually made a real impact on her grandson’s future.
For illustration purposes only.
When I first heard about the dress, I honestly thought she was kidding. She’s never been one to buy luxury items. She’s always gone on about saving money, spending wisely. So when she casually mentioned it over dinner, I nearly choked on my water.
I tried to keep calm. “Wait—you seriously bought an $1,800 dress?”
She smiled, clearly proud. “Yes. It’s stunning. I love it.”
I couldn’t help my reaction. “Mom, that’s a lot of money. Don’t you think it could’ve gone to something more useful? Tyler’s about to start college.”
Her smile faded just a bit, but she stayed calm. “Honey, I’ve helped in so many ways over the years. This one thing was just for me.”
I didn’t push, but it hurt. We’re not wealthy. Every dollar matters. And while she’s not broke, she lives off her pension and savings. She’s always emphasized frugality. I couldn’t understand why she suddenly needed a luxury dress now.
For days, I stewed. Not for me—for Tyler. He’s been working, applying for aid and scholarships, and still comes up short. $1,800 could’ve helped a lot.
Finally, I brought it up again.
“Mom, I just don’t get it,” I said one afternoon over coffee. “You always taught us to be smart with money, to think of others. This feels… selfish.”
She sighed and set her cup down. “You think I’m being selfish?”
I hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. I do.”
She was quiet for a moment before leaning forward. “Did you know that when I was your age, I wanted to buy myself a beautiful dress? Not designer, just something that made me feel special.”
I blinked. “No. I didn’t.”
She smiled faintly, her eyes soft. “I didn’t buy it. Every cent I had went toward raising you and your brother. I wore the same coat for a decade. Worked overtime. Clipped coupons. And I never regretted it.”
I started to feel guilty, but she wasn’t finished.
“But I’m 70 now. I’ve spent my life doing everything for others—my kids, my husband, my grandkids. And I still will. But just once, I wanted something for me. Without feeling bad about it.”
I swallowed hard. “But Mom, Tyler—”
She raised a hand gently. “I love Tyler. I’ve already set money aside for him. More than $1,800, actually. I was going to surprise him before college.”
I froze. “You what?”
She nodded. “I wanted it to be a surprise. I was just waiting for the right time.”
I was stunned. “Why didn’t you say something?”
She smiled. “Because I wanted to see if you’d trust me.”
The resentment I’d been holding onto shifted—into guilt, into understanding.
I had been so upset, I forgot all she’s already done for us. She’s spent her whole life putting everyone else first. And the one time she chose something for herself, I made her feel bad.
I took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Mom. I was just worried about Tyler.”
She reached for my hand. “I know. And that’s what makes you a good mom. But don’t forget, we all deserve something for ourselves sometimes.”
I nodded slowly, letting it sink in. “Can I at least see the dress?”
She laughed. “Of course. You might even want to borrow it someday.”
That night, I kept thinking about everything we talked about. How easy it is to judge when you don’t know the whole story. How often we expect parents to give endlessly and never ask for anything back.
My mom gave her entire life to others. Maybe she deserved that dress.
Was I wrong to be upset? Maybe. But I learned something—sometimes people need to do something for themselves. Even if we don’t understand it right away.
And that’s okay.
If you’ve ever struggled to understand a loved one’s choice, I’d love to hear your story. Let’s talk in the comments. And if this resonated with you, please share it.
This work is inspired by real experiences, but has been fictionalized for narrative purposes. Any similarities to real people or events are purely coincidental.
