Sometimes, life puts you in messy situations where you’re not sure if you’re doing the right thing or not. That’s what Na Me F— Up? is about — real Nigerians sharing the choices they’ve made, while you decide if they fucked up or not.
What should’ve been Ruth’s* (29) happiest day turned sour when a fight over her wedding dress became a battle of wills with her mother-in-law. Holding her ground cost her more than she imagined and left her wondering if she made the right choice.
Jeff* proposed to me last year, four years into our relationship, and I was thrilled at the thought of spending the rest of my life with him. He’s a great guy — calm and good-hearted. I never thought our issues would stem from his mum.
I knew Jeff was close to his mum, and I respected that, especially since he’s her only child. I met her properly for the first time shortly after the engagement. She seemed warm, but I soon noticed how vocal she was. From day one, she threw herself into wedding planning with so much excitement that it almost felt like the wedding was hers.
I realised she was domineering. For example, white weddings usually take place in the bride’s family church. But she insisted it had to be hers. She convinced my parents by saying it was where she met her late husband and where Jeff grew up. My parents weren’t thrilled, but they gave in. They’re not the type to pick a fight.
She had a friend who sold lace and insisted we buy the aso ebi there. I didn’t like any of her friend’s fabrics and even sent her a sample of what I preferred, but she dismissed it and chose what she wanted instead. Jeff’s mum went as far as picking the matching outfits for both families without consulting my parents. Even though she paid for them, it still felt like she had hijacked what should have been a joint decision.
She took full control of the planning and even assigned roles to my parents, who are much older. Though my parents grumbled, being their last child and this their final wedding to plan, they chose to let it go. Instead, they kept reminding me to be patient and focus on making a good impression. It wasn’t easy, but I obeyed them.
Getting married in her church also meant we had to attend their premarital counselling, which stretched over three months. I had planned for a July wedding, but because of their calendar, we shifted it to August. It might not seem like a big deal, but it frustrated me. The counselling itself made me uneasy. The committee asked intrusive questions, and the entire process felt stiff and judgmental. I only endured it for Jeff’s sake.
What kept me going through all the stress was the excitement of my dream wedding dress. I already had a picture in mind, contacted a top designer and paid nearly a million naira for it. The dress was ready two weeks before the wedding. It was elegantly fitted and decent. Jeff came with me for fittings and loved it. My mum also approved.
A week before the wedding, the women from the marriage committee asked to see the dress. The moment they saw it, they declared it unacceptable because it was strapless and too tight. They gave me a list of alterations, but my designer warned that making those changes would completely ruin the dress. I decided to stand my ground and told Jeff, who agreed we should go ahead as planned.
On the wedding day, just as I stepped out of the car to enter the church, the two women from the marriage committee stopped me. They pulled me aside and demanded to know why I refused to alter the dress. At first, I thought they were joking, until they said I would not be allowed into the church. According to them, the pastor would not proceed unless I fixed it as instructed.
I was furious. After all the money and effort I had put into my dress, they wanted to bar me from my own wedding? I called my mum, who tried to reason with them, but they refused to budge. They insisted I at least get a veil or jacket to cover up. When my mother-in-law arrived, she didn’t defend me. Instead, she sent someone to buy satin to patch the dress. In that moment, I stopped begging and insisted that if they wouldn’t let me in as I was, then I wasn’t going in at all.
The pastor heard what was happening, but instead of helping, he sent someone with an ultimatum. The service was meant to last until noon, and if I didn’t change my mind by then, he would leave, and no one should call him back. One hour had already passed. My mum panicked, my dad begged, and other relatives pleaded. Even Jeff came out to beg me, but I told them to beg the pastor instead.
My mother-in-law turned on Jeff in front of everyone, shouting that he had brought home a stubborn woman and asking how he planned to cope with me in marriage. I was boiling with anger and told my family I was ready to forget the church service altogether. We had already done the traditional wedding the day before, so I suggested we go straight to the reception.
When the time ran out and the pastor left, my uncle, who is also a pastor, offered to officiate at the reception venue. Jeff agreed, but his mum rejected the idea, saying it would only happen over her dead body. She stormed off, and most of her family members followed. One of Jeff’s uncles promised to calm her down and convince her to attend, so we went ahead.
We eventually had the joining at the reception, but the atmosphere was ruined. Jeff was tense and kept glancing over his shoulder, waiting for his mum. She never came. The M.C she hired didn’t show up either. Guests ate quietly, then left, and the turnout was much smaller than expected. It was nothing like the wedding I had imagined.
The event ended quickly, and we spent the rest of the day chasing relatives to plead with my mother-in-law. She agreed to see Jeff but refused to see me until the next day. When she finally did, she accused me of humiliating her, disrespecting the church, and preventing her from witnessing her only child’s wedding. She said she would only forgive me if I went to the marriage committee and her pastor to beg for their forgiveness and blessing.
It has been weeks since the wedding, and I keep putting it off with excuses. Jeff keeps reminding me that his mother won’t step into our home until I do as she asked. When I told him I can’t bring myself to beg those women who insulted me and that pastor who humiliated me on my wedding day, he said I should just do it for peace’ sake. This time, he made it clear he doesn’t support me and insists I’m only being difficult.
But I don’t see why I should keep bowing to her control. I already apologised. What more does she want?
I love Jeff, but the constant pressure makes me wonder what kind of marriage this will be. Everyone is telling me to give in, even my family. Part of me feels guilty that she missed her son’s wedding, but that was her choice. This feels like she is trying to impose herself all over again. I’m stuck between giving in to her demand or standing my ground once more.
*Names have been changed for anonymity
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