When I saw the credit card statement for my mother’s $1,800 designer dress, my first reaction was anger. My son was about to start college, and that money could have helped with textbooks, housing, or even just easing his student loan burden. My 70-year-old mother, who had always been the picture of frugality, had splurged on something that seemed so unnecessary.
Growing up, Mom was the queen of sacrifice. She patched our jeans instead of buying new ones, packed lunches instead of giving us lunch money, and wore the same winter coat for fifteen years. That’s why this purchase felt like a betrayal. How could she justify spending that much on a single dress when her grandson needed financial support?
But when I confronted her, her response surprised me. “After seventy years of putting everyone else first,” she said softly, “I wanted one thing just for me.” Her words hung in the air between us, forcing me to reconsider everything. Had I been so focused on what she could give that I’d forgotten she was still her own person? That maybe, after a lifetime of selflessness, she deserved this one indulgence?
