AM I WRONG FOR BEING UPSET THAT MY 70-YEAR-OLD MOM BOUGHT A $1,800 DESIGNER DRESS INSTEAD OF HELPING WITH HER GRANDSON’S EDUCATION?
I just don’t understand my mom’s priorities. She turned 70 recently and decided to treat herself to a designer dress worth $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 help would make a difference.
I’m struggling with this.
She’s always been practical, putting family first, so this feels completely out of character. That money could’ve actually meant something to her grandson’s future.
Am I being unreasonable for feeling this way? Shouldn’t she care more about family than an expensive dress she probably won’t wear more than a few times? Has anyone else dealt with something like this?
Hello! Grandma here.
I’ve spent decades putting my family first—five wonderful kids, countless sacrifices, always thinking about everyone else’s needs before my own. Every penny went toward making sure they had the best opportunities, especially when it came to education.
But now…
Hello! Grandma Here.
I’ve spent decades putting my family first—five wonderful kids, countless sacrifices, always thinking about everyone else’s needs before my own. Every penny went toward making sure they had the best opportunities, especially when it came to education.
But now…
I’m 70 years old.
I’m in the twilight of my life, and for the first time in decades, I allowed myself to do something just for me. I bought that dress because it made me feel alive, beautiful, and, frankly, a little daring. I looked in the mirror and saw a woman who still had some spark, who still wanted to live, not just exist.
I didn’t buy the dress to be selfish. I bought it to remember who I am beyond being a mom and grandma.
But when my daughter found out, the look on her face shattered me. Disappointment, even a hint of resentment. “How could you spend so much on a dress when Jake is about to start college? Do you not care about his future?”
I tried to explain. I told her that I’ve always cared. That’s why I scrimped and saved for years. But now, I’m on a fixed income, living off my pension and savings. I’ve helped when I could, but I can’t always be the family safety net.
She didn’t understand. She just saw it as me choosing fashion over family.
I watched her walk away, her shoulders stiff with anger, and it broke my heart. I thought I’d earned the right to do something for myself after all these years.
Was I wrong? Should I have put that $1,800 toward my grandson’s education? Should I have stayed in the shadows, quietly helping, never taking a moment to enjoy what’s left of my life?
I don’t know anymore.
But one thing is for sure—I never expected my own daughter to make me feel so guilty for wanting to feel beautiful again.
Back to Me: The Daughter
I read my mom’s post by accident. She doesn’t know much about social media and left her tablet at my house, still open to this anonymous forum.
Her words cut deep. I hadn’t thought about it from her perspective. I was so focused on Jake’s college tuition, on my own financial struggles, that I didn’t stop to think about her.
My mom sacrificed everything for us. She never bought herself anything fancy, never went on vacations, never complained about the hard life she had. And now, she just wanted one beautiful thing to call her own.
I sat there, feeling ashamed. I was the one who always preached about self-care, about how important it is to live fully. But I had denied her that same right. I judged her without understanding the lifetime of sacrifice behind that dress.
I thought about her standing in front of the mirror, seeing herself as more than just “Grandma” or “Mom.” I thought about her smile, the twinkle in her eye that I hadn’t seen in years.
I realized I was wrong.
She’s 70 years old. She deserves to feel beautiful. To feel alive.
I picked up the phone and called her. She answered, her voice wary. “Hello?”
“Mom… I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I was selfish. I didn’t understand… but now I do.”
There was a pause, and then I heard her sniffle. “I never meant to upset you. I just… I just wanted something for me. Just once.”
Tears welled up in my eyes. “You deserve it. You deserve so much more. I was wrong to judge you. I just… I was scared. I didn’t know how we were going to pay for Jake’s college. But that’s not your burden to bear. It’s mine.”
Her voice softened. “I would have helped if I could. You know that, right? But… my savings are running low. I don’t have much left. I needed to do something for myself before… before it’s too late.”
My heart broke. She was facing her own mortality, trying to find a moment of joy amidst the realization that time was slipping away.
I swallowed hard. “Mom, I love you. I don’t care about the dress. I just want you to be happy.”
I heard her sigh, the tension melting away. “Thank you, honey. That means more than you’ll ever know.”
A New Understanding
I didn’t just forgive her. I learned from her.
I learned that even parents are allowed to be human. That they are more than just caregivers or babysitters or safety nets.
They are people with dreams, desires, and the right to live, not just exist.
I looked at my own reflection, seeing the stress lines, the exhaustion from years of working and worrying. I realized that I didn’t want to wait until I was 70 to feel alive again.
That weekend, I went shopping with Mom. She wore her beautiful designer dress, head held high, confidence radiating from her.
I bought myself a little red dress, something I never would have splurged on before. When I put it on, I felt that same spark—alive, beautiful, unapologetically me.
We went out to lunch, two women rediscovering themselves, not just as mother and daughter, but as women who deserved to live.
And for the first time in a long time, we both felt absolutely radiant.
