It all began while shopping for a Christmas dinner dress I was hosting. At the store, a young saleswoman named Claire decided to play fashion critic. When I tried on a dress she picked, she mocked me loudly: “You definitely need a bigger size, or it’ll blow up on you on Christmas — or maybe a diet will help you.” Some customers giggled, others looked shocked. I ignored her and left, not wanting to waste energy on confrontation.

When I got home, I told my son what happened, holding back tears. Furious, he wanted to confront her, but I stopped him — I didn’t want to escalate things. Days later, on Christmas Eve, I awaited my son and his girlfriend, whom I’d never met. The family had gathered for the special night. The couple arrived, and to my shock, his girlfriend was none other than Claire.

The moment Claire recognized me, she went pale and claimed she felt unwell, hinting at leaving. I decided to give her one more chance, greeting her warmly and inviting her to stay. At dinner, she avoided my gaze, occasionally making crude jokes that unsettled my mother-in-law. I noticed my son stopping her a few times.

Midway through the evening, I decided to share my “gift” — the truth. I told everyone what Claire had said to me in the store. The room fell silent, and my son’s expression shifted from confusion to disbelief.

Without hesitation, he confronted Claire, then ended the relationship on the spot, asking her to leave. She gathered her things and left in embarrassment.

Later, my son thanked me for revealing her true nature. That Christmas, I realized justice doesn’t take holidays — sometimes, the best gift is the truth, wrapped in a little drama.