
Hello, my name is Demodex folliculorum and I live in the pores of the skin of your face that’s why it’s important to wash your face and remove makeup!!
The only way you can see me is with a microscope. I measure between 0,3 and 0,4 mm, and like spiders, I have 8 legs.
I like living in hair follicles that have your nose, cheek and eyelashes. These are places where there’s more fat to feed me.
I feed on your secretions and your dead skin. I can put up to 25 eggs in every hair follicle.
My digestive system is not able to eliminate my waste, so i accumulate them in my body until I explode and die. My remains cause hypersensitivity reactions.
According to some studies, in some people, I can cause infections on eyelids and rosacea.
I am a mite that is present in almost every adult on this planet.
Are you going to sleep in makeup tonight?
My Husband Threw $50 at Me and Said, âMake a Lavish Christmas Dinner for My Family â Donât Embarrass Me!â

When my husband tossed a crumpled $50 bill on the counter and smugly told me to âmake a lavish Christmas dinnerâ for his family, I knew I had two choices: crumble under the weight of his insult or turn the tables in a way heâd never forget. Guess which one I picked?
Every year, my husband Greg insists we host Christmas dinner for his family, which is fine except for the part where he treats it like some royal command rather than a joint effort.

A man standing in his house | Source: Midjourney
This year, though, he outdid himself, reducing my work and care to a single dismissive gesture. At that point, I decided I wasnât just going to cook.
I was going to ensure he learned a lesson heâd never forget.
It all started last week when Greg and I were standing in the kitchen, debating the plans for Christmas dinner. Or, more accurately, I was trying to discuss them while Greg was half-listening, scrolling through his phone.

A man using his phone | Source: Pexels
âWeâll need to plan the menu soon,â I said. âYour family usually expects a full spread, and I want to make sure we have time to get everything.â
Greg looked up, then casually pulled out his wallet, fished out a crumpled $50 bill, and tossed it onto the counter.
âHere,â he said, smirking. âMake a proper Christmas dinner. Donât embarrass me in front of my family.â
I stared at the bill, then at him, trying to process what Iâd just heard.

A woman standing in her house | Source: Midjourney
âGreg, this wonât even cover a turkey, let alone a whole dinner for eight people,â I said.
He shrugged, leaning casually against the fridge. âMy mom ALWAYS managed. Be resourceful, Claire. If youâre not up for it, just say so. But Iâll have to tell my family not to expect much. Wouldnât want them to think youâre⊠incapable.â
Ah, yes. His mother, Linda. The ever-perfect matriarch who could apparently conjure feasts out of thin air.
If I had a dollar for every time Greg compared me to her, Iâd be a millionaire by now.

An older woman | Source: Midjourney
I clenched my fists under the counter. The old me, the one who might have swallowed my frustration, was long gone.
Instead, I forced a sweet smile and said, âDonât worry, Greg. Iâll make it work.â
For the next few days, I played the role of the dutiful wife, letting Greg think I was stretching that $50 to its absolute limit.
Every time he came into the kitchen, Iâd casually mention clipping coupons or scouring sales, just to keep him off my trail.
Little did he know, I was planning something far more extravagant.

A woman standing outdoors | Source: Midjourney
Using the emergency stash Iâd built over the years, I decided to create a Christmas dinner, unlike anything his family had ever seen.
But this wasnât about impressing his relatives. It was about showing Greg that I wasnât someone he could dismiss with a crumpled bill and a condescending comment.
By the end of the week, I had everything planned.

A woman looking straight ahead | Source: Midjourney
The menu was set, the decorations were on their way, and the catering team Iâd secretly hired was ready to transform our home into a holiday masterpiece. Greg had no idea what was coming, and I couldnât wait to see his face when he realized just how âresourcefulâ I could be.
Christmas Day arrived, and with it, the culmination of my plan.
The house looked nothing short of magical. Garlands of twinkling lights adorned the walls, and the dining table was dressed in an elegant gold and red theme.

Christmas decor | Source: Pexels
Even the air smelled festive, thanks to the combination of freshly baked rolls, roasted turkey, and honey-glazed ham wafting from the kitchen.
Greg, blissfully unaware of how far Iâd gone, strolled into the dining room just as I was adjusting the last plate. His eyes widened as he took in the scene.
âWow, Claire,â he said, clearly impressed. âI didnât think you had it in you. Guess my $50 really worked wonders, huh?â
âOh, just wait, Greg. Tonightâs going to be unforgettable,â I said, straightening a napkin. âI wonât embarrass you in front of your family.â

A woman standing in her house | Source: Midjourney
Soon, his family began to arrive.
As always, Linda was the first to step through the door, impeccably dressed and scanning the room with a critical eye. She walked into the dining room and froze.
âClaire,â she said. âThis⊠this looks like it cost a fortune. You didnât overspend, did you?â
Before I could answer, Greg puffed up his chest and replied, âNot at all, Mom! Claireâs learning to be resourceful. Just like you taught me.â
Oh, Greg, I thought. You poor, oblivious man.

A man smiling | Source: Midjourney
Linda raised an eyebrow but let it slide. Meanwhile, the rest of the family trickled in, and showered me with compliments.
âThis is amazing,â Gregâs brother said, marveling at the spread. âHowâd you pull this off?â
âClaire has a talent for making the impossible happen,â Greg said with a self-satisfied grin, clearly basking in the glory of my hard work.
Dinner went off without a hitch. Every dish was a hit, and Gregâs family couldnât stop singing my praises.
But I wasnât done yet.

Christmas dinner table | Source: Pexels
When it was time for dessert, I brought out a triple-layer chocolate cake adorned with edible gold flakes, courtesy of the fanciest bakery in town. Gasps of delight filled the room as I placed it on the table.
As everyone reached for their plates, I stood up, holding my wine glass.
âBefore we dig into dessert, I just want to say how much it means to Greg and me to host you all tonight,â I began, smiling at the curious faces around the table.
Greg raised his glass in a mock toast, clearly relishing the spotlight.

A man holding a glass | Source: Pexels
âAnd,â I continued, âI have to give a special thank you to Greg. Without his generous contribution of $50, none of this wouldâve been possible.â
The room fell silent.
Lindaâs fork paused mid-air.
âFifty dollars?â she echoed.
âOh yes,â I said sweetly, turning to Greg. âWhen I asked about the budget for this dinner, Greg handed me a crumpled $50 bill and told me to âbe resourceful.â So I took that to heart.â
Gregâs face turned a deep shade of red as his brothers snickered.
Meanwhile, his father shook his head and muttered, âUnbelievable.â

A man sitting in his sonâs house | Source: Midjourney
âOf course,â I added, âthis dinner cost a little more than $50. About $750, actually. I used my personal savings to make sure everything was perfect since I wouldnât want Gregâs family to feel embarrassed.â
Gregâs jaw dropped as he looked at me with wide eyes. Linda shot him a look of pure disappointment, the kind that could wilt flowers.
âSeven hundred and fifty dollars?â she repeated, her voice sharp. âGregory, is this true? You handed Claire fifty dollars to feed all of us?â

A woman in her sonâs house | Source: Midjourney
âI⊠I thought she could handle it,â Greg stammered. âI didnât meanââ
âOh, he meant it,â I interjected smoothly. âGreg has this charming habit of throwing challenges my way. This one just happened to include a crumpled fifty and the expectation that I work miracles. Isnât that just amazing?â
Gregâs face flushed a deep crimson as he tried to regain control of the situation.
âClaire, can I talk to you? In private,â he hissed.

An upset man | Source: Midjourney
âNo need, Greg,â I said, raising my voice just enough to be heard. âLetâs keep everything out in the open. After all, your family deserves to know how you treat your wife during the holidays.â
Linda shook her head in disapproval. âGregory, I raised you better than this. How could you put Claire in such an impossible position? Honestly, Iâm embarrassed for you. So embarrassed.â
Gregâs attempt to defend himself fell flat. âI⊠I just thoughtââ

A man talking to his family | Source: Midjourney
âDonât strain yourself, dear,â I interrupted. âYouâve made your thoughts about me and my capabilities perfectly clear. But since weâre all about transparency tonight, I have one more little surprise.â
I reached under the table and pulled out an envelope, sliding it across to Greg. He eyed it suspiciously before opening it.
The color drained from his face as he read the receipt inside.
âWhat⊠what is this?â he stammered, though he already knew the answer.

A man looking at a paper | Source: Midjourney
âOh, just a little Christmas gift I bought for myself,â I said brightly. âItâs a weekend spa retreat. Consider it my reward for pulling off this âlavishâ dinner on your generous budget.â
Gregâs brothers erupted into laughter, one of them slapping the table in delight. His father, normally a man of few words, muttered, âServes you right.â
âYou can handle the cleanup tonight, Greg,â I added, leaning back in my chair with a satisfied smile. âThink of it as your contribution to this yearâs Christmas.â

A woman sitting on a chair | Source: Midjourney
Linda didnât say another word, but her expression said it all. She looked at Greg as though heâd personally let her down, which, frankly, was the cherry on top of the evening for me.
As the meal wound down, I let myself enjoy the cake with his family while Greg sulked in the kitchen, scrubbing dishes.
And that spa retreat? Iâd already booked it for New Yearâs weekend. Greg wouldnât be joining me. Not this time, and not ever again if I could help it.

A woman in her house | Source: Midjourney
If you enjoyed reading this story, hereâs another one you might like: When Zoeâs husband invites 15 coworkers to Thanksgiving â without warning â her cozy holiday turns chaotic. With a smile sharper than her carving knife, she channels her fury into orchestrating a feast theyâll never forget. Can she pull it off while teaching her husband a lesson he wonât live down?
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided âas is,â and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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