My Stepmom Told Me to Wash Dishes After Her Birthday Party Because I Didnt Gift Her a Dishwasher – Karma Hit back for Her Audacity

The Karma Surprise

When Mia’s stepmom, Trudy, decided to throw herself a massive, extravagant 45th birthday party, Mia already knew how this would go. She’d be the invisible helper, doing all the behind-the-scenes work. But what Trudy didn’t know was that karma was waiting in the wings, ready to teach her a lesson.

This is one of those stories where the universe steps in at the perfect moment, and trust me, it’s the most satisfying thing ever.

Let’s meet the characters. I’m Mia, a 16-year-old living with my dad and my stepmom, Trudy. Trudy’s been in our lives for about two years, and she’s really taken to her “wicked stepmother” role, like she was born for it. If being entitled was a sport, she’d be a gold medalist.

Life with her feels like living in a terrible reality TV show—no camera crew, no paycheck, just drama.

My dad? He’s all about “keeping the peace.” His favorite saying? “Happy wife, happy life.” But with Trudy, happiness seems to be a rare thing, and she expects everyone to revolve around her every whim.

Then came last Saturday, Trudy’s birthday bash. She turned it into this huge event, like it was a royal wedding or something. The whole week leading up to it, she strutted around like she was a queen about to be crowned.

“Mia, make sure you get me something special this year,” she said one morning as I was making my smoothie. “A dishwasher would be perfect. I’ve done so much for you.”

Really, Trudy? “So much” as in treating me like I’m Cinderella without the fairy godmother.

“Uh, Trudy,” I replied, blending my smoothie, “I’m saving up for my prom dress.”

Her face twisted like I’d just said the most ridiculous thing. “Your prom dress? That’s absurd! Just buy something cheap from the store. A dishwasher is much more practical. I don’t want to hear any excuses.”

Excuses? Seriously? She expected me to use my prom dress savings to buy her a dishwasher? I could’ve used a fairy godmother right about then.

To make things worse, Trudy had somehow convinced my dad that I was “too young” to get a real job, so all I could do was babysit the neighborhood kids. It wasn’t exactly bringing in the big bucks. Between that and saving for prom, there was no way I could afford a dishwasher too.

Fast forward to the day of the party. The house looked like something out of a magazine—caterers everywhere, an event planner running around, and enough flowers to fill a botanical garden. Meanwhile, I was busy wiping down mirrors and setting up drink stations, trying to stay out of Trudy’s way.

Once her friends arrived, Trudy turned into the star of her own show. She was throwing fake smiles left and right, soaking up all the compliments. “Mia! Refill the drinks!” she called out. So, of course, I had to.

The whole time, I floated through the party like a ghost, just counting the minutes until the cake was cut, so I could finally escape.

I grabbed a plate of food and found a quiet corner to hide in for a bit. My dad spotted me and laughed. “Taking a break, Mimi? I’ll get you a fancy milkshake from the milkshake bar.”

Soon after, it was cake time. My dad lit the candles, and Trudy danced around, grinning like she’d just won the lottery. But as the night started to wind down, Trudy clinked her wine glass and gave me this smug look that I knew too well.

“Mia, since you didn’t bother to get me a dishwasher, the least you can do is wash all these dishes.”

The room went dead silent. Every single person turned to look at me. My face felt like it was on fire. Did she seriously just say that in front of everyone?

“You didn’t get your mom a gift?” one of her friends asked, pretending to be concerned. “That’s so rude!”

I swallowed hard and tried to keep my voice calm. “Trudy, I told you—I’m saving for prom.”

She waved me off like my words didn’t matter. “Just wash the dishes, Mia. Do something useful.”

I wanted to scream, but instead, I forced a smile and said, “Fine.” I spent the next hour scrubbing dishes, trying not to explode from anger.

The next morning, I was woken up by the sound of Trudy screaming from the kitchen. I rushed downstairs and found her standing in the middle of a disaster. The entire kitchen floor was flooded, and the air smelled like something had burned.

“What happened?” I asked, still half-asleep.

“The pipes! The kitchen is ruined!” Trudy shrieked, flailing her arms around.

Turns out, she had poured meat oil down the sink after the party and then used drain cleaner to try and fix it. Total disaster—she completely wrecked the pipes.

I bit my lip to stop myself from laughing. Karma, anyone?

For the next week, the kitchen was completely unusable. The repairs were so expensive that my dad announced we’d have to cut back on some things.

“Except for Mia,” he added. “I’ve set aside $500 for her prom dress.”

Trudy was furious. “You’re spoiling her, David! What about the kitchen tiles?”

My dad didn’t back down. “You spoiled yourself with that party. I’m spoiling my daughter for her prom.”

Trudy was fuming, but in the end, she had no choice but to let it go. She even agreed to let me get a part-time job to help with my prom expenses.

Later, she tried to make peace with me. “I’ll help you find a nice prom dress,” she said, offering a real smile for once.

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