Your Black name is Tinkerbell

When DH and I were dating, for the first 3-4 years at least, my MIL didn't speak to me. She didn't agree with the fact that DH and I were together because I'm brown and he's kinda creamy. Ok, to put it bluntly, I'm Black, and he's White. Yup, can you believe it? Two people who happen to be different shades fell in love and wanted to just love one another and be together and hug each other and just be together. But anyways, I digress.

So one time MIL went to an old friend's store and the following conversation ensued:

ol friend: Hey, your _____'s mom. How's it going? He goes out with my friend _____.

mil: Um, hello.

ol friend: Yeah, they really get along great.

mil: I don't know who your talking about.

ol friend: But you are ________'s mom right? I recognize the last name, and his name is on your check here too.

mil: Yes, I'm his mother.

ol friend: So, you know _______, they've been together for like two years now.

mil: I don't know her.

See, mil pretended I didn't exist, kinda like how you ignore or try to ignore a toothache until its pounding through your gums. (Does that mean I just equated myself to being a toothache?)

But anyways, she ignored me until she figured out I wasn't going anywhere. And sometimes when I look back on it, I'm angry but other times I laugh, and last night I laughed because DH and I were talking about it and how I could have introduced myself to her and she could have called my Tinkerbell, because as far as she was concerned she didn't want anyone to believe that I existed and that I dated her son. Actually, she probably would have been happier with her son going out with a fairy or a Tinkerbell type. She probably would have found it easier to explain to her friends the wings than the brown skin.

But, all is well and my Black name now is Tinkerbell.