Groom’s Mom Kicks Out Bride’s Poorly-Dressed Parents at Wedding, She Barely Recognizes Them Later — Story of the Day

A snobbish mother is upset when her son wants to marry a poor girl, and throws her parents out of the wedding because they don’t look posh enough.

When Clara Wellington’s son came home from college and told her he wanted to marry a poor girl from Montana, she was horrified. “But who are her parents?” she asked. “What do they do?”

“What does it matter?” her son Brad asked. “I love Frannie, and that is all that matters to me.” Clara pressed her lips together. Of course, birth and status mattered, they mattered a lot! At least to Clara, they were everything!

When Clara and her husband, Brad Senior, met Frannie Heckle and her parents, all her worst expectations were confirmed. Clara supposed the Heckles were what her father-in-law would have called ‘salt-of-the-earth’ people, but not what she wanted as her son’s in-laws!

Mr. Heckle was a tall, burly man who wore a light blue suit that pouched at the knees and elbows, and Mrs. Heckle favored painfully bright floral house dresses and white plastic shoes…

Clara shuddered. They would have to do something about their clothes! She wasn’t having them spoiling the wedding by looking like the hicks they so obviously were! She said as much to her husband and his reply surprised her.

“Leave them alone, Clara,” Brad Senior had said in a cold voice he seldom used with her. “Brad loves this girl, and these are good, genuine people who care for him. What they wear doesn’t matter!”

Clara was angered by her husband’s refusal to see how very important it was to give the right impression, to present the right image. Her son would one day be a wealthy man, with a place in the city’s high society.

People would be talking about this wedding for years and Clara was determined that it would be an absolute success — there would be no snide remarks or criticism of her only son’s wedding!

Clara invited Mrs. Heckle and Frannie out to lunch, and carefully explained to the two women that what they wore was VERY important.

“Mrs. Heckle, I think you should rethink your image. You should go to Bloomingdales, there are some quite acceptable off-the-rack clothes that won’t be too expensive that would give you and your husband the right look.”

Frannie and her mother looked at each other. “I can’t afford things like that, Mrs. Wellington,” said Mrs. Heckle firmly. “I already bought my dress.”

Clara pressed her lips together. “Well, Mrs. Heckle, I just wanted to talk to you about it because there IS going to be a dress code!”

Mrs. Heckle frowned. “I’ll wear what I like, and no one will tell me different!” she said.

“Well, since I’m paying for the wedding, I beg to disagree!” Clara snapped. Things might have gotten very unpleasant if Brad hadn’t arrived just then, and put a damper on the discussion.

But Clara had an idea. She smiled to herself: “Why don’t I just get the help to take out the trash?” She had a plan, and it was in effect on the wedding day. Mr. and Mrs. Heckle arrived at the Wellington estate (the wedding was to be held in the garden) and were confronted by a security guard in a smart black suit.

The security guard took one look at Mr. Heckle’s checked brown suit and Mrs. Heckle’s flounced polka dot dress and stopped them. “Excuse me,” he said politely, “I’m afraid you can’t go in.”

“We are the bride’s parents!” Mr. Heckle said. “We have to go in.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” said the security guard. “But there is a dress code and I was instructed not to let anyone not in compliance in…”

“What do you mean?” asked Mr. Heckle angrily, “I demand to see Mr. and Mrs. Wellington!”

The security guard looked at Mrs. Heckle’s bright pink and yellow print dress and winced. “Mrs. Wellington warned me some trashy people would try to get in, I’m acting on her direct orders!”

“Trashy?” cried Mrs. Heckles, “What do you mean trashy?”

The security guard threw Mr. and Mrs. Heckle a scornful glance. “If you have to ask…” he sneered, “Now off with you, back to the trailer park you escaped from!”

Mrs. Heckle started to cry and Mr. Heckle put his arm around her. They were walking away from their own daughter’s wedding because the security guard called them trailer trash!

It was then that Brad Senior arrived. “What’s going on?” he asked, and when the security guard told him, he got very, very angry. “Come with me,” he said to the Heckles and led them inside.

Upstairs he ushered them into his dressing room and gave Mr. Heckle one of his tuxedos, then stepped into Clara’s wardrobe and pulled out a fabulous dress and shoes. “Here,” he told Mrs. Heckle. “It might be a bit big on you, but it should be alright!”

Twenty minutes later, Mr. and Mrs. Heckle walked into the silk tent in which the wedding was to be held, and at first, Clara didn’t recognize them, then she gasped. Mrs. Heckel was wearing an Armani dress she hadn’t even worn yet!

That was HER dress! Clara opened her mouth to protest and then she saw the look in her husband’s eye. She smiled graciously and nodded at the Heckles and the wedding march began to play.

The wedding was in full swing when the best man announced the toasts, and first up was Brad Senior. He picked up the microphone and smiled at the bride and groom.

“Frannie,” he said. “I want to welcome you to our family! You are everything I hoped my son would find in a wife — a kind, loving woman. That matters more than anything else, even money.

“But in case you’re worried about that, let me tell you that marrying poor girls is something of a family tradition. You know, Brad, when I married your mother, she didn’t have two cents to rub together! She wasn’t even wearing shoes!”

Clara listened in horror, then as the high society people around her started to sneak peeks at her and snicker, she turned and ran out of the tent and into the garden. She had never felt so ashamed in her life!

She was sobbing on a garden bench when she felt a gentle hand on her head. “Mrs. Wellington?” Clara looked up and saw Frannie looking down at her. “Please, don’t cry, it’s OK!”

“I’m so humiliated…” Clara sobbed. “The things Brad said…”

“You should be proud of your origins, Mrs. Wellington,” Frannie said quietly. “I think you’re an extremely elegant woman. I have a lot to learn, and I know if I can learn as well as you, Brad will be proud of me.”

Clara looked at Frannie’s sweet, kind face and said, “Frannie, there’s nothing I can teach you. You are already more gracious than I have ever been, and Brad is already proud of you.”

Frannie smiled. “Nevertheless, I want us to be friends,” she said. “You see, we both love Brad more than anything and that is a wonderful thing to share!”

Clara went back to the tent on Frannie’s arm, braved the sly looks from her posh friends, and danced all night. Towards the end her feet were sore and she took off her shoes and didn’t care what anyone thought at all.