It felt like a cruel joke when Penelope’s father demanded that she modify her look in order to resemble her stepmom in order to get a position in his will. But when she learned the true reason for his demand at a family get-together, she was shocked and started crying.
I require your assistance. Please. Though everyone calls me Penny, my name is Penelope. You can use that to address me, please. I’m at my wit’s end and I’ve never asked for help online before. While everyone else is enjoying barbecues and fireworks to celebrate the Fourth of July, all I can think about is fireworks exploding—and not in a good way. My heart feels like a swarm of enraged bulls has crushed it because of my dad.
I’ll go back a little. Ten years ago, my parents, Charlie and Nina, were divorced after a tumultuous, public fight that left the entire town in disarray. Since then, they haven’t spoken, and to put it mildly, things have been awkward. I hardly saw Dad anymore when he remarried to a woman called Eloise.
Although monthly cash help arrived through the bank, Dad seemed to have vanished from the picture most of the time.
You know, it stung. Well, I’m 22 now, so I suppose I’m still more of a mommy’s girl. I accept that my parents’ motives for divorcing are business-related.
But it’s not the reason I’m here. This has to do with something far stranger.
So the other day, Dad randomly contacted me on FaceTime. Considering that this individual often speaks with carrier pigeons, a video call was unexpected. I was dumbfounded by his next statement, though.
“Penny, honey,” he began, sounding very phony and nice. “Listen, I’m celebrating the Fourth of July with a little gathering. Just relatives, you know. I truly need you to “fit in” with the new family and appear more “suitable,” he blurted out as he trailed off.
Remain still. Getting along? I hardly know the new family, with? He made this odd request before I could even inquire what he meant by it.
He went on, “I was thinking, maybe you might… Maybe lighten things up a little? You know, Eloise, your stepmother, is blond and…
Well, let’s get started. The Eloise parallels are about to begin. Now, it sounds like a broken record.
I cut you off, “Dad, what are you getting at?”
He moved in his chair in an uncomfortable way. “Well, perhaps you could think about… dying your hair blonde?” he said. similar to Eloise? And those, well, huge, unattractive spectacles you wear—perhaps some colored contacts would look better?”
He began to ramble once more, but I was aware of his next move. My hallmark spectacles were the “big, ugly glasses.” You know how they framed my face? I felt vulnerable without them, like a book with its cover torn off.
“Shift my look?” I let out a gasp. “Are you serious, Dad?”
He groaned, “Look, Penny, all I want is for things to be a little easier.” You know, for each and every one of them. Indeed, there are benefits for you as well if you follow through with this.
“I’m revamping my will, and let’s just say being more, uh, presentable might be beneficial in the long run,” he blurted out after he paused for a while.
My teeth tightened. Advantageous? Did he essentially suggest that I needed to undergo a makeover in order to share in his inheritance? My frustration was at an all-time high.
“So, in order to be mentioned in your will, I have to look like your trophy wife?” I spit out.
He scowled, “Don’t be so dramatic, Penny.” “It’s not really that significant. Just a few connections and a small dye job. Consider it an investment in the future.
A financial commitment? Dad, this wasn’t a stock market transaction! He was playing around with my identity! Let me tell you, I was having an emotional explosion inside as the call ended in a jumble of yelling and weeping.
I went over to Mom’s apartment, fuming. Luckily, she was home because she lives right down the street. Her expression became stern as I gave her the rundown.
“Oh, honey, I know exactly what’s going on here,” she remarked.
For a moment, her embrace was all I needed when she pulled me in.
However, she later withdrew, stating, “Listen, you ought to follow your father’s wishes. But this isn’t just a makeover, I assure you. Simply put on the particular outfit I’ll provide you. Arrive for their Fourth of July celebration dressed like such, and observe the course of events.
My stomach turned over. There was a sour taste in my mouth at the thought of altering my appearance only to please Dad.
I buried my face in her shoulder and murmured, “But Mom, I don’t even want to leave.”
She put her hands up to cup my face. “I understand, my love. But there’s a purpose behind this, I assure you. Go ahead and follow along for the time being.
I reluctantly accepted.
The problem is that I was unwilling to bleach my priceless black hair. So I went to the store and got some contact lenses and a blonde wig.
I donned my mother’s clothing that she got me especially for this Fourth of July, and I emphasized my appearance with a blonde wig and contacts. Oh my, I looked like a complete stranger gazing back at me in the mirror.
With a nervous grin, I pecked my mother’s cheek and got into the taxi to go to Dad’s party. There was a fragrance of oven-baked ribs and barbecue when I got there. While everyone was conversing and joking, I could hear Dad’s rough voice above them all.
I walked up to him anxiously and said, “Hey, Dad!”
Though I wasn’t surprised, he looked around and was shocked to see me. Folks, he turned absolutely pale. After that, he pouted and questioned, “Where did you get this stupid dress?!”
I was so confused as to why he was responding that way when he saw me wearing that outfit that I felt like I should go under a rock.
Even though it was rather old, it was great and appeared brand-new from Mom’s wardrobe. Even after using my beloved English Rose perfume, I could still smell the naphthalene. Thus, you can appreciate the length of time this outfit had been essentially dozing off in Mom’s cabinet.
“What’s wrong, Dad?” Reluctantly, I removed my blonde wig and requested.
I saw a side of him then that I had never seen before. Dad just let the tears fall from his eyes as they welled up. At this time, I was really concerned.
“Where did you purchase this outfit?” He said it again, his voice faltering.
“I got it from Mom,” I said, sounding perplexed. “Why?”
Dad inhaled deeply and found it difficult to talk. “That dress, Penny… On our first date, your mother wore it.
My heart fell. “What?”
With tears running down his cheeks, he nodded.
Every year, I find it more difficult to watch you since you resemble your mother. When you were twelve years old, I had a very publicized divorce from the lady I loved very much. I made an effort to avoid seeing you too much since it would break my heart every time I saw her eyes in yours.
A lump formed in my throat. “Daddy…,”
“Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt as much if you looked different. Perhaps I might welcome you into my family at last. Still, observing you in that outfit Dad gasped out, “It feels like I’m living everything over again.
Tears filled my eyes. “So you said you thought I should look different because I look like Mom?”
Dad wiped away his tears and nodded. “Oh my gosh, Penny. I was unable to tell you directly. It was too painful.
I inhaled deeply, a mixture of melancholy and rage.
I can’t alter who I am, Dad. I can’t take on a different identity in order to simplify things for you. I look like Mom, and I’m your daughter. Nothing will change about it.
With sadness in his eyes, he glanced at me. Penny, I am aware. Yes, I am aware. I simply… I was unsure of how to respond to it.
I added, “You need to sort out your inner demons, Dad,” looking him square in the eyes. You have to go on and accept the reality that I resemble your mother. as I have no intention of changing who I am.
Dad nodded slowly, the agony and understanding on his face clearly visible. Penny, you’re correct. I have to take care of this. I simply didn’t know how to deal with it.
“Maybe you ought to speak with your mother as well. Perhaps it will aid in your mutual healing,” I sighed.
There was a glint of optimism in his gaze. Is it likely that she would?
“I’m not sure,” I said. “But give it a shot.”
Dad nodded after inhaling deeply. I’m grateful, Penny. for being truthful with me.
I grinned a little at him. The remainder of the celebration flew by.
I was unable to concentrate on the giggling and talking people surrounding me. My thoughts were racing due to all of Dad’s admissions. I couldn’t stop staring back at him, watching him absorbed in contemplation and battling his feelings.
After the celebration had finished, I returned to Mom’s house. With a worried expression on her face, she was waiting for me.
“How went it?” she inquired politely.
I let out a sigh, fatigued. It was really intense. Dad… He lost it. He filled me in on everything.
Mom gave a nod, her gaze softening. “I believed he could. I gave you the clothing for that reason.
Shocked, I turned to face her. “You were aware that it would set off something in him?”
She gave a sorrowful grin. “I sensed something. We occasionally require a little encouragement to face our history.
I gave her a deep hug, filled with both grief and thankfulness. “I’m grateful, Mom. For everything.
“I’m proud of you, Penny,” she whispered while holding me tight. You carried it out gracefully.
I was filled with optimism as I retreated. Perhaps, just perhaps, things might improve.
However, what’s the deal? I’m still quite upset. I’m upset that my father had me go through this. I’m upset that he attempted to transform me into someone I’m not merely because he was unable to control his own feelings.
It isn’t just. Why would he leave my mother and begin a new life if he truly loved her so much? Because I resemble the woman he previously loved, why does he continue to separate himself from me? Why do you want me to crawl under someone else’s skin?
Tell me, was he acting fairly? How should I proceed? Is it really worth trying to patch things up with him? Shall I simply accept it and move on with my life? I’m in need of your guidance.