My future MIL gave me a list of 10 rules to become the “perfect” wife for her son. I smiled, nodded… and decided to follow every one of them. Just not the way she expected.
I’d always been an ordinary woman with ordinary needs. Nothing extravagant. I wanted to work, have a few hobbies, maybe travel a bit, and one day build a family.
I didn’t equate life with grand happiness — I simply lived it and appreciated what I had.
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Until I met Dylan.
My friends used to talk about him like he’d stepped straight out of a luxury shower gel commercial.
“He supports everyone, no matter what!”
“His suits are always spotless.”
“And he never forgets to open the door for a lady. Never!”
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I used to smile politely, not quite believing men like that existed outside romcoms. But the first time Dylan took my hand in his — I got it.
Dylan made my life feel cinematic. Almost too good to be true. I found myself blooming next to him, dreaming bigger, smiling more. I even started cooking with joy.
We moved in together pretty quickly, and strangely, domestic life didn’t ruin the magic. If anything, it strengthened it. The toothbrush next to mine and the grocery runs were small rituals that made me fall harder.
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Everything felt… easy. The perfection of it didn’t scare me. It reminded me how simple love could be when two people were honest.
That evening, we were having dinner at our favorite trattoria. But Dylan seemed… different. Fidgety.
“You okay?” I asked, smiling softly when we finally went outside.
He nodded and suddenly… he knelt. In the middle of the street. With a proposal ring in a tiny box.
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“I knew it from the moment you said pesto was overrated,” he began. “That’s when I realized… I want to wake up next to you, even on the days you’re mad at me for forgetting to bring home oat milk. You’re my heart. Will you be my wife?”
Something in my chest melted completely.
“Yes… Of course, yes.”
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He slipped the ring onto my finger. The tables around us erupted in applause. It was perfect.
Right up until the following day, when Dylan said,
“I think it’s time you meet my mom. You’re going to adore her…”
And that’s when I felt the tiniest tremor in our fairytale. The kind that makes you wonder… if the perfect story is about to take a turn.
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***
We didn’t wait long to plan the trip. Dylan was too excited to tell his mom the news. So the very next morning — it was Saturday — we packed an overnight bag and hit the road to his parents’ place in the countryside.
Dylan hummed along to some 80s playlist as he drove, while I tried to decide if I was overdressed.
“Just wait till you try her lemon tart. Mom’s a legend in the kitchen. And she’s so excited to meet you.”
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I laughed, nervously. “Sounds… charming?”
“She’s amazing. You’ll see.”
In half an hour, the front door flew open before we even knocked.
“Diiiiilan!” a sing-song voice echoed, and there she was. Elen.
The woman wore head-to-toe baby pink — a satin blouse with a bow the size of a toddler and matching trousers.
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“And you must be the darling girl!” she squealed, pulling me into a hug.
Elen smelled of roses and baby powder. I sneezed quietly into her shoulder. As soon as she inhaled the soft trail of my perfume, she gave a tiny cough.
“Oh my,” she said with a polite little wince. “Is that… jasmine?”
I nodded, already regretting it.
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“Lovely… if one can tolerate it. Tee-hee!”
Great… Two seconds into our first hug and we already have a mutual allergy to each other’s taste in perfume. Coincidence? Unlikely.
“Look at those cheeks! You are real!” Elen giggled, giving Dylan’s arm a little slap. “She’s prettier than your last girlfriend.”
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“Mom…” Dylan chuckled, clearly charmed.
We walked through the garden toward the house, and for a moment I let myself admire the rose bushes until my eyes landed on something… unexpected.
A small bronze statue, oddly placed between two ceramic bunnies. Elen noticed. Of course, she did.
“That’s my little Cupid,” she said proudly.
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The poor thing had a chipped wing, a dented face, and an overall expression.
“I found it in a darling little antique shop upstate,” she went on. “Of course, it arrived scratched. But he has character.”
Her voice wavered just enough to give her away — she adored the odd little creature.
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We walked in. The house was a shrine to florals. Floral curtains, floral sofa cushions, even a porcelain tissue box shaped like a bouquet.
Over tea (served in rose-patterned cups, naturally), Elen asked me questions so sweetly I almost didn’t notice the blades hiding behind them.
“So, do you actually work, or is it more of a hobby?”
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“Uh… well, I have a full-time job in marketing,” I said, trying to smile. “It’s…”
“She’s really talented,” Dylan cut in proudly.
Each time, she ended with a sharp little laugh, like a kitten pawing you after unsheathing its claws.
“Tee-hee!”
Dylan, bless him, looked enchanted.
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“Isn’t she just the cutest?” he whispered to me later. “She’s always been so warm.”
Warm. Like a scented candle right before it gives you a headache.
After dinner, Dylan stepped out to the garage with his father to check on some old stereo system. Elen and I were left alone. She stood. Smoothed her pink blouse.
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“Now that it’s just us girls. I think it’s time we had a little honest talk, don’t you?”
I froze, my spoon halfway to the crème brûlée.
“You’re going to marry my son. So it’s only fair that I tell you exactly what’s expected of you as a future perfect daughter-in-law.”
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She reached into a drawer. And pulled out a pink sheet of paper with little roses printed along the edges.
“These are just a few small expectations,” she said sweetly. “I find it helps if we’re all on the same page.”
She placed it in front of me. Across the top, in pink script, I read:
“10 Rules for the Ideal Future Daughter-in-Law.”
At that moment I realized — I might be holding the contract to my horror movie.
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***
It was Sunday afternoon. My friends and I were curled up on the couch in my apartment with two open pizza boxes and three untouched oat milk lattes that had gone cold ages ago.
I didn’t need caffeine. I had rage.
“Start from the beginning,” Emma said. “I want to picture the whole pastel nightmare.”
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I took a breath and stared into the middle distance, letting the horror replay.
“Okay. So we get there, and she’s dressed like a life-sized cupcake. Baby pink from head to toe. She hugs me, coughs at my jasmine perfume, and… And…”
Sasha snorted. “I knew it. I knew she’d be a tee-hee monster.”
“And the house? Floral vomit. Everywhere. The tissue box had roses.”
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Emma leaned in.
“Did she bring out the list immediately?”
I held up a finger. “Not yet. First, she asked if I actually work or if it’s just, you know, a hobby.”
“No!” Sasha gasped. “She did not.”
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“Oh, she did. And then,” I continued, voice rising, “she pulls out a list.”
Emma’s jaw dropped.
“What kind of medieval sorcery is that?”
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“She reached into a drawer like it was a magic hat — and pulled out my personal horror scroll. Pink. Floral. Smug.”
I reached into my bag and tossed the folded sheet on the table.
“I couldn’t sleep that night. I read it so many times, it’s burned into my brain.”
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My friends leaned over to read. I watched their faces twist with each line. Here’s what it said:
1. Lose 10 pounds before the wedding. No exceptions.
2. Agree with your mother-in-law. Always.
3. Get a proper job. Hobbies are not working
4. Handle all housework. Without complaining.
5. Clean my house every weekend. Bathrooms included.
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6. I will choose the baby’s name. No discussion.
7. Cut contact with all men except your husband. Even at work.
8. Give me a key to your home. I need full access.
9. Keep your phone’s location on at all times.
10. Do not argue with me. I am always right.
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Emma leaned back slowly.
“That woman is two pearls away from full-blown dictatorship.”
Sasha looked at me.
“So… what did you do? Did you tell Dylan?”
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“No. I didn’t want to crush him. Not yet. But I knew I had to wake him up from the syrupy-pink fog Elen’s got him in.”
“You didn’t…”
“Oh, I did. I decided to follow the rules. Every single one. With my own interpretation.”
“You’re going to play her game?”
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“Exactly. I start next weekend. With item number five.”
Sasha grabbed it and read aloud.
“Clean my house every weekend. Bathrooms included.”
“Oh, I’m going,” I said, already feeling that fire in my chest. “But the cleaning won’t be quite what she expects.”
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***
It was Saturday morning. Sun shining, birds chirping, my revenge plan locked and loaded. I had Dylan’s spare key from Elen’s house.
I arrived at 10 a.m. in full cleaning mode. Rubber gloves. A tote bag filled with goodies. A fresh can of ultra-strong jasmine air freshener. And a single red sock.
Let the games begin.
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Step one: Laundry. I found her perfectly folded white sheets — Egyptian cotton, monogrammed — and casually tossed them into the washer with the red sock I’d brought for this very mission. The cycle began. I grinned.
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Step two: Scent domination. I sprayed jasmine air freshener in every corner of every room.
Two spritzes in the bathroom.
Three in the hallway.
One on the welcome mat — because first impressions matter.
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Step three: The rearrangement. I moved her ceramic angel collection from the fireplace mantel to the kitchen counter. The TV remote went into the wardrobe. Her favorite slippers? Her “FAMILY IS FOREVER” wooden sign? Hung upside down.
And then came the Cupid. That little bronze nightmare glared at me from the garden, as if daring me.
I wrapped him gently in a towel and carried him to…I’ll tell you later.
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By noon, the house was spotless. But it no longer screamed “Elen.” It screamed “new management.”
I closed the door behind me and practically skipped home.
***
The next morning, just as I was tying my sneakers to head out, someone started pounding on my door. I opened it.
Elen stood there, wild-eyed, hair slightly askew, holding a pink bedsheet like it was a crime scene photo.
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“You turned my entire house into a scented circus!” she yelled. “Everything smells like cheap perfume! My shirts are pink! And where is my Cupid?!”
I blinked innocently.
“Oh, good morning. I think you are fond of pink.”
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“Don’t ‘good morning’ me! I want everything back the way it was! Now!”
“Oh… sorry. Can’t.”
She stared at me.
“I’m late for the gym,” I said casually, tying my shoelace tighter. “Punct number one on your list, remember? Lose ten pounds before the wedding.”
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Her mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.
“And the statue?” she hissed.
“Oh, I thought It’s trash. So I hired guys to get it out.”
“How dare you?!”
Just then, Dylan appeared behind me, rubbing his eyes.
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“Mom? Why are you yelling?”
“Ask her!” Elen said, spinning toward him. “She sabotaged my home! She poisoned the air! And she… she threw out Cupid!”
Dylan blinked. “Cupid?”
“My statue! My precious little bronze guardian!”
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“Cupid’s not gone. He’s just… enjoying a quiet retirement in the garage. I thought he deserved a break from all that pollen. I just followed the rules,” I said sweetly, pulling the crumpled pink paper from my bag and handing it to Dylan.
His eyes moved line by line.
“Mom… what is this?”
“A helpful guide! To support her! To prepare her for a life with you!”
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“With me or with you?”
I grabbed my gym bag and smiled.
“Anyway, I really have to run. Zumba waits for no one.”
Elen’s nostrils flared. I looked over my shoulder with one last, sugar-sweet nod.
“Don’t worry. I’m taking your list very seriously. You might want to start your own.”
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Just before I reached the door, Dylan turned to his mother.
“Mom, we really need to talk. And this time, I need you to listen.”
I stepped outside, letting the door click softly behind me, and left my future MIL standing face to face with her sin, the man I loved, finally ready to draw his own lines.
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If you enjoyed this story, read this one: I was working a night shift, exhausted but grateful—until I glanced in the rearview mirror and saw my husband in the back seat… with another woman. I stayed silent, already planning his downfall.
“The stunning ‘Daisy Duke’ looks completely different now – her famous legs were once insured for a million dollars.”
Back in 1979, my Friday nights were spent glued to CBS, eagerly waiting for The Dukes of Hazzard to come on.
As a young boy, I was infatuated with ‘Daisy Duke.’ Honestly, every guy who grew up in the late ’70s probably had a crush on her. The gorgeous brunette was played by the effortlessly stunning Catherine Bach.
Now at 70, Catherine looks quite different, but you can’t help but smile when you see her recent photos…
How many TV characters leave such a lasting fashion legacy? Catherine Bach, forever known as Daisy Duke, cemented her place in pop culture history.
The beautiful actress, who famously had her legs insured, rose to fame in the late ’70s and ’80s. A native of Cleveland, Ohio, she became iconic for her bold wardrobe choices—being one of the first to rock short shorts on TV.
But those who think Catherine was just another pretty face couldn’t be more mistaken.
She had the creativity, confidence, and smarts to shape the character that defined her career.
For instance, the producers of Dukes of Hazzard wanted her to wear a tight white turtleneck, go-go boots, and a poodle skirt for the role. But Catherine took matters into her own hands, designing her own wardrobe. She even handmade many of the outfits, including her signature look.
Today, cut-off denim shorts are still known as “Daisy Dukes,” and it’s amazing that girls continue to wear them, sometimes not even realizing the name’s connection to the show.
A Dolly Parton Look-alike
Catherine Bach was born in Warren, Ohio, in 1954. She had a unique upbringing, splitting her time between her father’s ranch in South Dakota and summers with her mother in California after her parents’ divorce.
While spending time in California, Catherine attended drama school and fell in love with acting. Just two days after finishing high school, she hopped on a plane to Hollywood, determined to make it.
She went through a list of agents in town, visiting every one until she found someone willing to take her on as a client.
The aspiring actress, determined to break into movies, landed a few small roles before learning about an audition for a show called The Dukes of Hazzard. It was her then-husband, David Shaw (Angela Lansbury’s stepson), who brought the opportunity to her attention.
“My husband was a contractor… and he liked to hire struggling actors, writers, and producers. One of them was painting our house while writing a show about an old moonshiner called The Dukes of Hazzard,” Catherine revealed to Beaver County Times in 1981.
Catherine recalled that the producers were originally looking for someone resembling Dolly Parton to play Daisy Duke, envisioning a woman with big blonde hair, a curvy figure, and an hourglass shape. Despite not fitting the description, Catherine auditioned and impressed everyone, landing the role the same night.
The Dukes of Hazzard quickly became a massive success, ranking as one of the top TV shows of the late ’70s. While critics weren’t fans, the general public loved it. The show had everything—car chases, cheesy jokes, and a stunning lead actress.
Catherine Bach’s portrayal of Daisy Duke turned her into a household name. Many fans tuned in just to see her, and her character was adored by viewers.
“Daisy is a mix of many people I’ve known. She’s part of the wildest girl I knew in high school, part of a few close friends I had in Georgia, and there’s a lot of Dolly Parton in her too. She’s also a lot like me when I was a waitress—independent, tough, and able to do anything the guys could do,” Catherine explained in 1979.
In the late ’70s, Catherine represented natural beauty. She had no cosmetic enhancements—no implants, Botox, or veneers.
Within the show, she played the sweet, slightly naive southern belle with strong morals, but it was her good looks and charm that captivated viewers.She wasn’t covered in tattoos, didn’t have unusual piercings or dyed hair—she was simply a down-to-earth, naturally beautiful woman.
Famously, her legs were insured for $1,000,000, adding yet another layer to her star appeal.
Husband’s Tragic Death
After The Dukes of Hazzard ended in 1985, Catherine struggled to maintain the same level of stardom. She appeared in a few low-budget films, and her career slowed down.
However, she later gained recognition for her role as Margo Dutton in the popular Canadian series African Skies. Some fans might also remember her recurring role as Anita Lawson in The Young and the Restless.
Unfortunately, tragedy struck in 2010 when her husband, entertainment lawyer Peter Lopez, passed away. The couple had married in 1990 and remained together until his untimely death.
“He was the love of my life,” Catherine shared with People magazine.
Catherine’s husband tragically took his own life, leaving her with countless questions and few answers. He wasn’t struggling with addiction, rarely drank, and they enjoyed a stable financial life together.
So what led him to this decision?
“There’s a lot of stress in the music industry, but Peter was always composed and collected,” she shared with People.
“The more time that passes, the more I feel he did this to protect us. Something must have happened that he couldn’t move past.”
Confronted with profound loss and overwhelming grief, Catherine dedicated herself to her family. She paused her career to support her daughters, Laura Esmerelda and Sophia Isabella, who were only 11 and 14 at the time.
Catherine couldn’t afford to fall apart; she did everything she could to hold their family together as their home was “swarmed with reporters, the coroner’s office, and various people.”
“I realize these girls are my legacy, and Peter’s legacy. They represent our love and our values about family. I couldn’t allow myself to focus on my own feelings,” she expressed to Huffington Post.
Ultimately, the actress found strength through her faith.
“I prayed a lot. I attended church frequently. I’m Catholic and maintained a close relationship with my priest, whom I deeply trust… That’s what kept me going.”
Catherine Bach Today
In 2024, it will mark 40 years since The Dukes of Hazzard concluded, and Catherine, of course, looks quite different from that young star of years past. Yet one thing remains unchanged: her radiant smile! Catherine has aged beautifully and is still a lovely woman.
During her time as Daisy Duke, she stayed fit by “dancing three hours a day, hiking, and swimming.” Her athleticism not only aided her in the role but also helped her fit into those notoriously tiny shorts.
“The hardest part of wearing the shorts was keeping them zipped,” she once admitted.
However, things have changed a bit over the years. Like many of us, she has experienced fluctuations in weight as she ages.
“I’ve gained a little weight, but who cares?” she told People.
In 2022, the actress was spotted in public for the first time in a while, enjoying some retail therapy in Los Angeles. The stunning star of the 1970s traded her tiny shorts for large sunglasses, black sneakers, and a cross-body phone case.
Many fans noted that the years have changed her and struggled to recognize the former star—but that’s quite normal.
While people age, their character and personality can often shine even brighter. Catherine has always been, and continues to be, a true sweetheart.
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