My MIL Was Selling My Clothes Online — I Finally Put an End to It on Thanksgiving

My MIL Was Stealing My Clothes for Months and Advertising It Online — On Thanksgiving, I Publicly Taught Her a Lesson

Stephanie writes off the disappearance of her beloved garments as forgetfulness until she learns that her mother-in-law is covertly selling them online and labeling them “trashy.” The family will always remember this Thanksgiving feast, and living together while renovations were underway really became intriguing.

Before my mother-in-law, Lucia, moved in with us while her house was being restored, I believed that I got along well with her.

The “proper” technique to scrub the hardwood floors and the reason I added rosemary to my pot roast were the first minor points of contention.

I made an effort to host well, but Lucia made it difficult. When I came home from my part-time work one day, I found that she had moved everything that was kept in the kitchen cabinets. Additionally, despite my requests that she refrain from doing so, she insisted on hanging the laundry outside to dry.

“The fresh air just makes it smell better,” she stated.

I told her, “That’s what the scented fabric softener is for,” but she refused to listen.

“You’re both very headstrong and like to do things your way, so it’s natural you’ll clash from time to time,” Michael observed as I lashed out at him at a dinner on a date night. In addition, Mom will be returning to her home in a few weeks. It isn’t very long.

“It may as well be forever,” I sighed.

Then my garments began to vanish.

The garment was semi-sheer to begin with. I wanted to wear it to a professional event, but it was gone when I entered my wardrobe.

“Lucia, have you seen my dress?” I went to the basement to look through the laundry and called. “The mauve one, with the ruffles?”

“The one that looks like a curtain?” As I walked by, Lucia peeked out of the living room. “No, Steph, I don’t think I have.”

The situation with the missing clothes worsened, and I never did discover that dress. Next to go were my slim jeans, my sundress in fuschia pink, and—this one really got to me—my favorite silk shirt that Michael had purchased for our anniversary.

I was going half crazy because I thought I had lost them. I reorganized my closet three times after unpacking everything. Each time, I found that something else was missing, such as a grey pencil skirt, my lace pantyhose, or a beloved bra.

The true kicker, though? It was only by chance that I learned the truth about what was happening to my garments.

One night I was unable to sleep and ended up browsing Reddit. There, I came upon a picture of MY CLOTHES with the infuriating caption, “Cleaning out my DIL’s trashy wardrobe.” Does anyone want to purchase some clothing that is inappropriate for a decent married woman?

My chamomile tea almost choked me. Given who else it may be, “LuciaTheThief” might as well have been the username.

After three months of living in my home, eating my meals and critiquing my cooking, the woman was now allegedly taking my clothes.

I muttered to myself, “Oh my God,” when I read the remarks.

While some made harsh critiques of my sense of style, others wanted to purchase the clothing. She had responded to some of them with comments such as “She dresses like she’s still in college” and “My poor son doesn’t know how to tell her these clothes are inappropriate.”

My fists were so tightly balled up that one of my acrylic nails broke off. At that moment, I was tempted to barge into the guest bedroom and demand that my things be returned, but I thought of a better idea.

This year, Michael and I were enjoying Thanksgiving with members of both our families, and it was quickly approaching. There were twelve in all, including one of Michael’s aunts and his older brother.

I remarked as I gathered photos of Lucia’s Reddit post, “Revenge is a dish best served with turkey and cranberry sauce.”

I smiled as I put my phone away and went to sleep.

I politely instructed Lucia to make the Thanksgiving meal using her family’s recipes. It kept her occupied as I rushed through the last parts of my lesson plan.

After that, I arranged the table as Lucia had requested. By the time everyone got there, it looked flawless. As everyone sat down, Michael clasped my hand beneath the table, presumably assuming that I was finally trying to get his mother to do anything.

If only he were aware.

I got up, wine glass in hand, after everyone had finished their dishes. I declared, “I’d like to make a toast,”

“To family,” I said, “and especially to Lucia, who’s been such a… presence in our home these past few months.” Around the table, there are a few giggles. “She’s taught me so much about generosity and giving to others.”

Lucia smiled, presumably believing I had finally absorbed some of her incessant teachings on volunteering and compassion. At that point, I grabbed the trash bag I had previously hidden beneath the table.

I went on to say, “in fact, she’s generously donated all of these clothes to the women’s shelter downtown,” “accidentally” allowing the bag to rupture.

Lucia’s designer pants, her beloved cashmere sweater, and—oops—her La Perla lingerie skittering across the hardwood floor were all out.

Lucia spewed up her wine like a fountain after taking one look at the clothing, which I had carefully picked because I knew she adored them.

There was silence at the table. Jane, Michael’s sister, quit eating in the middle. Then, unexpectedly, Sarah, Michael’s cousin, began to applaud.

“That’s so wonderful of you, Aunt Lucia!” Sarah cried out. “You talk about giving back to the community all the time. Your donation of your high-end clothing is very kind.

Others praised Lucia’s seeming selflessness and participated in the cheering. Knowing that she couldn’t speak without disclosing her wrongdoings, I observed as her countenance alternated between bewilderment, terror, and rage.

The trap was ideal.

Lucia avoided everyone’s gaze and pushed food around her plate during the rest of the deliciously awkward dinner.

She was quieter than I had ever seen her at a family get-together. She would typically be holding court, telling tales of Michael’s early years, or making overt references to grandkids.

Lucia cornered me in the kitchen after supper.

Either from rage or the three glasses of wine she had consumed to finish dessert, her face was red.

Her hands trembling, she grasped the counter and yelled, “How dare you humiliate me like that?” “Stephanie, you went too far. Far too far.

I took my time loading the dishwasher, one plate at a time. “How could I? That’s a lot of money coming from someone who called me nasty while stealing my things and trying to sell them online.”

“What? I… I have no idea what you’re discussing.”

I stopped, pulled out my phone, and showed her the Reddit post screenshot I had captured. Her mouth slackened as the blood left her face.

“I… well, those clothes were inappropriate—”

I interrupted her, “Those clothes were mine,” I moved on to the following screen grab. “Every single comment you made, every attempt to sell my things — it’s all here.”

“And let me make something crystal clear: my house, my clothes, my life,” I said. “You no longer have the authority to decide for me. Lucia, actions have repercussions. The next time you consider going too far, keep that in mind.

I discovered all of my missing clothing folded and tucked up outside my bedroom door the following morning. Everything was there, including the silk blouse and the semi-sheer dress.

There was no need for a note—the message was obvious.

After gathering them all, I went to my closet and rummaged through my old clothes for an hour.

I had my contribution bag at the door when Lucia arrived for breakfast.

Quietly, “Going to the shelter?” she inquired.

“Yes. Using my own clothing—the ones I truly wish to give away.”

After giving me a nod, she startled me by adding, “I apologize, Stephanie. I was mistaken.

With my luggage in hand, I stopped at the door. “I know you were.”

She moaned and wrung her hands, saying, “It’s just…” “I was concerned about what people would think of those garments because some of them were so exposing. Regarding you, Michael, and our family. But I handled everything incorrectly. It won’t occur once more.

I said, “No,” “it won’t.”

I couldn’t help but smile as I drove to the shelter. Sometimes teaching someone about limits requires a little public humiliation. And suppose Lucia made another attempt at something similar? Well, those screenshots from Reddit were still stored on my phone.

Just in case.

However, we had achieved a provisional peace for the time being. The weeks that followed saw a decrease in criticism, an increase in consideration for others’ personal space, and, amazingly, no remarks regarding my clothing choices.

Sometimes a relationship needs to be restarted with a spectacular gesture.