I blinked. Flooding? That didn’t sound right. She lived in a freshly renovated house, nothing but top-tier everything. I hadn’t heard a single complaint about it until now.
Before I could even begin to process, Joe appeared behind me. He looked guilty, eyes darting anywhere but at me. “Yeah… about that.” He rubbed the back of his neck, awkwardly shifting his weight. “Mom’s gonna stay with us for a bit. Just until the house gets fixed.”
“And you didn’t think to tell me?” I asked, my glare piercing.
He shrugged like it was no big deal. “It’s only for a little while, babe. You and Mom get along, right?”
Get along? If by “get along,” he meant the passive-aggressive remarks about how we’d been married for six years and still hadn’t given her any grandkids, then sure. We were best friends. But I plastered on a smile, the kind you give when you’re two seconds away from snapping. “Of course. I totally understand.”
Hours later, after I’d pretended everything was fine, I got up for some water. As I passed the kitchen, I heard them talking in hushed voices.
“You didn’t tell her the real reason, did you?” Jane’s voice was sharp, like a knife slicing through the night.
Joe sighed. “No, Mom. I didn’t.”
“Well,” Jane huffed, “I’m here to keep an eye on things. Married this long with no children… someone’s got to figure out what’s going on. Don’t worry, I’ll handle it.”
My stomach twisted. This wasn’t about pipes. She was here to snoop. To pressure me about kids. To “handle” me. I stood frozen in the hallway, blood boiling. What the hell had I just walked into?
The next morning, I woke up with a plan. If Jane wanted to play her little game, I’d play mine. But I wasn’t going to get into a battle of wits with her. No, I was going to kill her with kindness. By 8 a.m., I had already started phase one of my “operation.”
I cleared out our entire master bedroom. Every piece of clothing, every picture frame, every trace of Joe and me was stuffed into the tiny guest room. I even found Jane’s favorite floral bedspread from the back of the linen closet and spread it over the bed like I was preparing a five-star hotel suite.
When I was done, I stood in the doorway, surveying my work. The bedspread was pristine, her cat pictures were lined up on the dresser, and to top it off, I made a “Welcome to Your New Home” basket. Bath bombs, lavender-scented candles, fancy chocolates.
By the time Joe got home from work, I was already sitting in the cramped guest room, arranging our clothes into whatever space I could find. He walked in, his forehead creased with confusion. “Why are you in here?” He peeked around the corner. “Where’s our stuff?”
“Oh, I moved everything,” I said, turning to him with the sweetest smile I could muster. “Your mom deserves the master bedroom, don’t you think? It’s only fair. She needs the space more than we do.”
His eyes widened in disbelief. “You… gave her our bedroom?”
“Of course,” I said with a grin. “She’s family, after all. We’ll be just fine in here.”
Joe stood there, mouth half open, processing what I’d done. But what could he say? Jane was his mother, and I wasn’t technically doing anything wrong. He sighed and walked out of the room without another word.
For the next few days, I made sure Jane was living like royalty. Fresh towels every morning, little snacks placed on the nightstand, and those lavender candles I knew she loved.
She wandered around the house like she owned the place, smiling at me like she’d won. But while Jane was lounging in luxury, Joe was starting to crack. Sharing the guest room was driving him nuts. Not just the lack of space, but his mom’s new obsession with prepping him for fatherhood.
Every morning, without fail, she’d hand him a schedule of vitamins.
“You need to take these, Joe,” she’d say, thrusting a multivitamin at him. “It’s important to get your body ready if you want healthy kids.”
Joe would roll his eyes but take the pills just to keep her quiet.
It didn’t stop there. “Should you really be watching TV at night?” she’d ask over dinner. “That’s not very baby-friendly. You should be reading parenting books. Or exercising. And no more video games! You need to mature, Joe. Fatherhood is serious.”
By day four, I found Joe sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at a stack of parenting books his mom had ordered online.
“I think I’m losing it,” he muttered, holding up a book titled “What To Expect When You’re Expecting.” “She expects me to read this.”
I couldn’t help but smile. “Well, Joe,” I said, suppressing a laugh, “you did say we’d be just fine, didn’t you?”
It was relentless. Jane had taken things up a notch. One evening, she handed Joe a neatly typed list of “fertility-boosting” foods. Kale, quinoa, grilled salmon—no more burgers, no more pizza. She smiled sweetly as if she was doing him the world’s greatest favor.
“Your future kids will thank you,” she chirped.
Joe stared at the list like it was a death sentence. “Wait, no pizza? Ever?”
“That’s right, dear,” she said, patting his shoulder. “I’ve planned all your meals for the week. You’ll feel so much better once you start eating clean.”
That night at dinner, we sat around the table eating dry salmon and tasteless kale. Jane watched Joe like a hawk, her eyes flicking from his plate to his face. He shifted uncomfortably, picking at his food.
“Joe,” she started, “did you take your vitamins this morning?”
He sighed, stabbing a fork into the kale. “Yeah, Mom. I took them.”
“And what about the gym? Did you make time for that? You know, you’ve put on a little weight. It’s important to be in shape if you want to be a good father.”
I couldn’t help it. I kicked him under the table to stop myself from bursting out laughing. He shot me a look, his expression torn between frustration and desperation. After days of this, it was finally getting to him.
Later that night, once Jane had gone to bed, Joe turned to me, rubbing his temples. His voice was low, almost pleading. “I can’t do this anymore, Tiana. The guest room, the vitamins, the baby talk… I’m going insane.”
I bit my lip, trying to suppress a smile. “You have to admit,” I said, failing to keep the amusement out of my voice, “it’s kind of funny.”
His eyes narrowed. “It’s not funny.”
I let out a small laugh. “Okay, okay, it’s a little funny.”
Joe groaned and collapsed onto the bed. “I booked her a room at the hotel down the street. I can’t take another day of this.”
The next morning, he broke the news at breakfast.
“Mom, I’ve booked you a nice hotel nearby until the repairs at your house are done. You’ll be much more comfortable there.”
She blinked, clearly surprised. “But I’m perfectly fine here! And besides, isn’t it time you two got serious about giving me grandkids?”
Joe’s jaw clenched. “Mom, we’ll decide that when we’re ready. For now, the hotel is best for everyone.”
For a moment, Jane just stared at him. Then, realizing she had no leg to stand on, she reluctantly nodded. “Well… if you insist.”
By the end of the day, she was gone. The house was ours again.
As the door clicked shut behind her, Joe collapsed onto the couch with a dramatic sigh of relief. “Finally.”
I grinned, sinking down beside him. “So… kale for dinner?”
He groaned. “Never again.”
Helen Mirren believed that the bikini snapshot her husband captured of her on the beach would remain a private, intimate moment – but internet didn’t listen
Helen Mirren has definitely earned a legion of fans throughout her more than 50-year career as an actress, and her commitment to ageing naturally has garnered her even more popularity.
Mirren started off in the entertainment industry as a theater actress, joining the Royal Shakespeare Company before making her debut on London’s West End in 1975.
Though, the now-78-year-old didn’t become a household name until later on in her life – she was 35 when she landed her breakout role as a gangster’s girlfriend in ‘The Long Good Friday’ (1980), opposite Bob Hoskins.
Having focused on her career for much of her adult life, finding the right partner and having children wasn’t on Mirren’s radar… Until she met her now-husband – US film director Taylor Hackford.
“I was 38 when I met Taylor, pretty late in life,” she stated in a 2016 AARP interview, recalling how the director had kept her waiting for an audition when they first met. When she eventually landed the part, the pair got to know each other and their relationship grew from there.
Eventually, Mirren and Hackford were able to bond over their similar working class upbringings (her mother was a working class woman whose own family came from a long line of butchers, while Mirren’s father was a Russian aristocrat who escaped to the UK during the Russian Revolution and became a cab driver to support his family).
The future spouses also bonded over their love for traveling, and apparently had a similar view on storytelling, both being in the entertainment industry.
Even though Hackford’s two children from previous marriages supported Mirren’s union with their father, this didn’t change her stance on becoming a mother herself. Though, she did explain that she found Hackford’s dedication to being the best parent to his children rather endearing.
The pair eventually married in 1997, after they came to the realization that they knew they would be together forever. At that point, they’d been together for over a decade.
The infamous swimsuit photo
Fast forward to 2008, and Mirren went viral for an image her husband snapped of her at the beach… Something that stunned fans and even the legendary actress herself!
The married couple had been on a romantic Italian beach vacation when they trekked to a secluded beach spot to take in the breathtaking views in private.
She recalled how she took a photo of her husband and then, in return, he snapped a quick pic of her. Though, Mirren said that the moment she sucked in her stomach when posing, she saw a small flash in the distance and crouched down on the rocks to hide from the apparent paparazzo.
When Mirren’s husband turned around, he couldn’t see the paparazzo, and said his wife was just being “paranoid”. Though, sure enough, the photo taken of Mirren in a red bikini was posted by a tabloid and went viral everywhere.
A few years later the actress told Ellen DeGeneres on the latter’s talk show that the image was just a fluke, saying: “I look at that picture and say, god, I wish I look like that. But I don’t.”
Years later, people are still stunned by the image of Mirren, who was 63 years old at the time it was taken – with many people on the internet commenting that they don’t look half as good as her despite being decades younger!
In 2014, the Oscar winner spoke about the image just before her 68th birthday, telling People: “The truth is I don’t really look that good, it was just a flattering picture.”
She added: “I am beyond the bikini-wearing age, really. I wouldn’t normally wear one. I look like a woman in her 60s. I’ve always looked awful in a bikini, even when I was young.”
What do you think of Helen Mirren’s stunning bikini image? Let us know in the comments!
If you liked this article, then you’ll definitely be interested in reading about how Julie Andrews made a rare public appearance at 87.
Leave a Reply