{"id":852,"date":"2026-09-07T14:52:55","date_gmt":"2026-09-07T14:52:55","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/metropolitantimeshock.pics\/?p=852"},"modified":"2026-09-07T14:52:55","modified_gmt":"2026-09-07T14:52:55","slug":"i-wore-a-dress-almost-identical-to-my-dils-at-my-sons-wedding-their-first-dance-taught-me-a-lesson-ill-never-forget","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/metropolitantimeshock.pics\/?p=852","title":{"rendered":"I Wore a Dress Almost Identical to My DIL’s at My Son’s Wedding \u2013 Their First Dance Taught Me a Lesson I’ll Never Forget"},"content":{"rendered":"

<\/p>\n
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I spent months telling myself my dress was only “similar” to my daughter-in-law’s. Same color, same length, same kind of lace, but surely not close enough to matter. I believed that right up until my son left his bride standing alone on the dance floor and held out his hand to me.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

My name is Carol, and I need to admit something I’m not proud of.<\/p>\n

When my son David got engaged, some ugly, small part of me wasn’t ready to stop being the most important woman in his life.<\/p>\n

I didn’t say that out loud, of course.<\/p>\n

I smiled when he called me and said Rachel had accepted his proposal.<\/p>\n

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<\/div>\n
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I cried when he sent me a picture of the ring on her hand.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

I told everyone at work that my only son was getting married.<\/p>\n

I even told Rachel how happy I was.<\/p>\n

And I meant it. Mostly.<\/p>\n

The problem was that every happy moment seemed to come with a second feeling underneath it. Fear.<\/p>\n

David had always been close to me.<\/p>\n

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<\/div>\n
\n

His father left when David was nine. After that, it was the two of us for years.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

I worked full-time at a dental office and took whatever extra shifts I could find.<\/p>\n

David learned to make grilled cheese before most kids his age knew how to use a stove.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

On Friday nights, we’d order pizza, sit on the couch, and watch terrible action movies until one of us fell asleep.<\/p>\n

When he went to college, he called me almost every night.<\/p>\n

When he got his first real job, I was the first person he called.<\/p>\n

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<\/div>\n
\n

When he bought his condo, I helped him choose the curtains.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

Then Rachel came along.<\/p>\n

She wasn’t rude. That would have made things easier.<\/p>\n

She was kind. Annoyingly kind, if I’m being truthful.<\/p>\n

She remembered my birthday. She brought me soup when I got the flu.<\/p>\n

She never complained when David invited me to dinner.<\/p>\n

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But slowly, naturally, things changed.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

David called her first.<\/p>\n

He asked her opinion before mine.<\/p>\n

When he bought a new car, I found out afterward.<\/p>\n

When he started talking about buying a house, he said things like, “Rachel and I want a big kitchen,” and “Rachel thinks we should stay near the city.”<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

Every sentence seemed to begin with Rachel.<\/p>\n

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I told myself I wasn’t jealous. I told myself I was adjusting.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

Then they got engaged.<\/p>\n

The wedding planning started almost immediately.<\/p>\n

Rachel wanted a small ceremony at a restored farmhouse outside town.<\/p>\n

Nothing too formal. About 80 guests.<\/p>\n

She included me in everything.<\/p>\n

Cake tasting, flowers, and venue tours.<\/p>\n

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<\/div>\n
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She even asked me to come to one of her dress appointments.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

I couldn’t make it because of work.<\/p>\n

A few weeks later, I was scrolling through Pinterest and found a board Rachel had apparently forgotten was public.<\/p>\n

On it was her wedding dress.<\/p>\n

At least, I assumed it was hers because several nearly identical gowns were pinned.<\/p>\n

Ivory, floor-length with soft lace across the bodice.<\/p>\n

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It had a narrow waist and a simple skirt without much decoration.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

It was elegant and understated. Exactly Rachel’s style.<\/p>\n

I stared at it longer than I should have.<\/p>\n

Then I closed the app.<\/p>\n

Two months later, I went shopping for my own dress.<\/p>\n

My sister-in-law, Diane, came with me.<\/p>\n

The first few stores were uneventful. Blue, green, and burgundy.<\/p>\n

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<\/div>\n
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A silver dress that made me look like a Christmas ornament.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

Then, at a boutique two towns over, I saw it.<\/p>\n

An ivory dress. Floor-length with a lace bodice.<\/p>\n

Not identical to Rachel’s dress, but close enough that I felt something tighten inside me.<\/p>\n

Diane saw my expression.<\/p>\n

“No,” she said.<\/p>\n

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I laughed. “I haven’t even said anything.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

“You don’t have to.”<\/p>\n

“It’s beautiful.”<\/p>\n

“It’s ivory.”<\/p>\n

“The mother of the groom can wear ivory.”<\/p>\n

“Since when?”<\/p>\n

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<\/div>\n
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I pulled the dress off the rack. “It’s not a wedding dress.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

“It looks like one.”<\/p>\n

“It doesn’t.”<\/p>\n

“It absolutely does.”<\/p>\n

I should have put it back.<\/p>\n

Instead, I tried it on.<\/p>\n

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The saleswoman zipped me up and said, “Oh, wow.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

I looked at myself in the mirror.<\/p>\n

For the first time in months, I didn’t feel like someone’s mother.<\/p>\n

I didn’t feel like the older woman standing politely at the edge of things while everyone celebrated the beautiful bride.<\/p>\n

I felt visible.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

Diane stood behind me with her arms crossed. “You cannot wear that.”<\/p>\n

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I turned sideways. “The lace is different.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

“Carol.”<\/p>\n

“And Rachel’s dress has sleeves.”<\/p>\n

“You have seen her dress?”<\/p>\n

I froze. Diane’s face changed.<\/p>\n

“I saw something on Pinterest. I don’t even know if that’s what she bought.”<\/p>\n

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“You know exactly what you’re doing.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

That made me angry because some part of me knew she was right.<\/p>\n

“I am not trying to look like the bride.”<\/p>\n

“Then choose literally any other color.”<\/p>\n

I bought the dress.<\/p>\n

For weeks, I justified it.<\/p>\n

Ivory wasn’t white. The cut was mature.<\/p>\n

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The lace pattern was completely different.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

No reasonable person would confuse a 58-year-old mother of the groom with a 29-year-old bride.<\/p>\n

By the morning of the wedding, I had repeated those arguments so many times that I almost believed them.<\/p>\n

When I walked into the farmhouse, Diane looked at me and closed her eyes.<\/p>\n

“You actually wore it.”<\/p>\n

“I told you I would.”<\/p>\n

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<\/div>\n
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She leaned closer. “You still have time to change.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

“I’m not changing.”<\/p>\n

“People are going to talk.”<\/p>\n

“People always talk.”<\/p>\n

Then I saw Rachel.<\/p>\n

She was standing near the window with her maid of honor while the photographer adjusted something on her veil.<\/p>\n

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<\/div>\n
\n

Her dress was almost exactly what I remembered.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

Ivory, floor-length, lace bodice, and a simple skirt.<\/p>\n

Mine had no train, but hers did. Her neckline was different. Her lace was finer.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

But from across the room, the similarity was impossible to miss.<\/p>\n

Rachel looked up, and our eyes met.<\/p>\n

Her smile disappeared for one second.<\/p>\n

Then it came back.<\/p>\n

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<\/div>\n
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“Carol,” she said. She walked over and hugged me.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

“You look lovely.”<\/p>\n

There was no bite in her voice. No accusation.<\/p>\n

That somehow made it worse.<\/p>\n

“You too,” I said.<\/p>\n

She glanced at my dress again.<\/p>\n

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<\/div>\n
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Then she smiled. “I’ll see you after the ceremony.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

She walked away.<\/p>\n

I told myself everything was fine. It wasn’t.<\/p>\n

The whispers started before the ceremony.<\/p>\n

My cousin leaned toward her husband when I passed.<\/p>\n

David’s aunt looked me up and down.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

One of Rachel’s bridesmaids whispered something to another woman, and both of them looked in my direction.<\/p>\n

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<\/div>\n
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Diane sat beside me. “I warned you.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

“Stop.”<\/p>\n

“I am stopping. Everyone else isn’t.”<\/p>\n

During the ceremony, I focused on David.<\/p>\n

My little boy. Except he wasn’t little anymore.<\/p>\n

He stood at the altar in a dark suit, looking at Rachel as if the rest of the room had disappeared.<\/p>\n

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<\/div>\n
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When she reached him, his face changed.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

I had never seen that exact expression before.<\/p>\n

Peace. That was the only word for it.<\/p>\n

He looked peaceful.<\/p>\n

For a moment, I forgot about my dress.<\/p>\n

I forgot about the whispers.<\/p>\n

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<\/div>\n
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I cried when they exchanged vows.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

When David said, “I choose you for the rest of my life,” my chest hurt, but not in the way I expected.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

I was proud of him.<\/p>\n

Then the reception began.<\/p>\n

Dinner was beautiful. The speeches were funny.<\/p>\n

I gave a short toast about David being a stubborn child who once refused to take off a superhero cape for three straight days.<\/p>\n

Everyone laughed.<\/p>\n

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Rachel reached over and squeezed my hand afterward.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

For a while, I relaxed.<\/p>\n

Then came the first dance.<\/p>\n

The DJ dimmed the lights.<\/p>\n

David took Rachel’s hand and led her onto the floor.<\/p>\n

A slow song started.<\/p>\n

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They moved together awkwardly at first, both laughing.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

Then they settled into it.<\/p>\n

Rachel rested one hand against David’s shoulder.<\/p>\n

He whispered something in her ear.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

She smiled.<\/p>\n

Everyone watched them.<\/p>\n

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I stood near my table with a glass of champagne.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

I should have been happy.<\/p>\n

Instead, I felt strangely invisible again.<\/p>\n

It is difficult to explain how ridiculous that sounds now.<\/p>\n

It was their wedding.<\/p>\n

Their first dance.<\/p>\n

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Of course everyone was watching them.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

But some insecure part of me was still keeping score.<\/p>\n

Halfway through the song, the music softened.<\/p>\n

David looked toward me.<\/p>\n

Then he said something to Rachel.<\/p>\n

She looked at him, then at me.<\/p>\n

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To my surprise, she stepped away.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

David walked across the floor, straight toward me.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

People turned to watch.<\/p>\n

My heart jumped.<\/p>\n

“Mom,” he said, holding out his hand. “Come dance with me.”<\/p>\n

I looked at Rachel. She stood several feet away, smiling faintly.<\/p>\n

“Now?”<\/p>\n

“Now.”<\/p>\n

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I put down my glass. For one shameful second, I felt triumphant.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

I wish I could erase that feeling.<\/p>\n

But it was there.<\/p>\n

David had left his first dance with his bride to come get me. His mother.<\/p>\n

A tiny voice inside my head whispered, See? You still matter most.<\/p>\n

I placed my hand in his.<\/p>\n

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We walked onto the dance floor.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

David put one hand around my waist.<\/p>\n

The song continued.<\/p>\n

I smiled up at him. “Well,” I said softly, “I wasn’t expecting this.”<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

“I know.”<\/p>\n

“This is sweet.”<\/p>\n

He didn’t answer. That’s when I noticed his expression. He wasn’t smiling.<\/p>\n

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I looked around. The room felt wrong.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

People weren’t watching us with warm expressions.<\/p>\n

Diane looked mortified.<\/p>\n

Rachel’s father stared down at his table.<\/p>\n

One bridesmaid had her lips pressed tightly together.<\/p>\n

Even the photographer had lowered her camera.<\/p>\n

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Rachel stood alone near the edge of the floor.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

She wasn’t angry. That was worse.<\/p>\n

She looked tired.<\/p>\n

Suddenly, I felt the lace against my skin.<\/p>\n

The ivory fabric.<\/p>\n

The ridiculous dress I had spent months defending.<\/p>\n

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I looked back at David. “What is this?”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

His jaw tightened. “Rachel’s idea.”<\/p>\n

I blinked. “What?”<\/p>\n

“She told me to come get you.”<\/p>\n

I glanced toward Rachel. “Why?”<\/p>\n

David’s eyes filled with disappointment.<\/p>\n

“Because she said you’ve spent the whole day trying to show everyone you’re still the most important woman in my life.”<\/p>\n

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I stopped moving. David kept his voice low.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

“She thought maybe if you got part of our first dance too, you wouldn’t feel like you had to compete anymore.”<\/p>\n

My mouth went dry. “I wasn’t competing.”<\/p>\n

David looked directly at my dress.<\/p>\n

He didn’t have to say anything.<\/p>\n

I felt my face burn.<\/p>\n

“Mom.”<\/p>\n

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<\/div>\n
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“It isn’t exactly like hers.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

“That’s what you want to say right now?”<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

I looked around again.<\/p>\n

Suddenly, every whisper from earlier made sense.<\/p>\n

Every raised eyebrow.<\/p>\n

Every uncomfortable glance.<\/p>\n

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<\/div>\n
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I had thought people were judging me unfairly.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

They weren’t.<\/p>\n

They were embarrassed for me.<\/p>\n

And Rachel, the woman I had quietly treated like an enemy, had decided to give me part of her wedding dance rather than fight with me.<\/p>\n

I looked at her.<\/p>\n

She was standing by herself while I danced with her husband during the moment that was supposed to belong to them.<\/p>\n

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Something inside me broke. “No.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

David frowned. “What?”<\/p>\n

I stepped away from him. “No. Stop.”<\/p>\n

The DJ hesitated.<\/p>\n

I lifted my hand. “Please stop the music.”<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

The room went silent.<\/p>\n

Every eye turned toward me.<\/p>\n

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A few months earlier, that attention might have thrilled me.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

Now I wanted the floor to open beneath my feet.<\/p>\n

I looked at Rachel. “Rachel, please come here.”<\/p>\n

She hesitated, then walked toward us.<\/p>\n

When she reached me, I took a breath.<\/p>\n

My hands were shaking. “I owe you an apology.”<\/p>\n

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<\/div>\n
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She looked surprised.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

I heard someone shift in a chair.<\/p>\n

I kept going.<\/p>\n

“I knew what your dress looked like.”<\/p>\n

David closed his eyes for a second.<\/p>\n

Rachel said nothing.<\/p>\n

“I saw it months ago. Or something almost exactly like it. Then I found this dress.”<\/p>\n

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I touched the lace at my waist.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

“I told myself it was a coincidence. I told myself ivory was fine. I told myself everyone else was being dramatic.”<\/p>\n

My throat tightened.<\/p>\n

“But the truth is, I wanted people to look at me too.”<\/p>\n

Rachel’s expression softened slightly.<\/p>\n

I swallowed. “I’m ashamed of it.”<\/p>\n

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The room was completely quiet.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

“You should never have had to give me part of your first dance because I was too insecure to let you have your own wedding day.”<\/p>\n

My eyes filled with tears. “I’ve been acting like you’re taking something from me.”<\/p>\n

Rachel blinked quickly.<\/p>\n

“You aren’t.”<\/p>\n

I looked at David.<\/p>\n

“You aren’t taking my son away from me. He’s choosing a wife. That’s what he’s supposed to do.”<\/p>\n

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David’s face changed. I turned back to Rachel.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

“I’m sorry.”<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

She stood there for several seconds.<\/p>\n

Then she reached for my hand.<\/p>\n

“I forgive you, Carol.”<\/p>\n

I started crying.<\/p>\n

Then she continued.<\/p>\n

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“But you need to stop acting like loving David is some kind of competition between us.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

I nodded immediately.<\/p>\n

“You’re right.”<\/p>\n

“I don’t want to compete with you.”<\/p>\n

“You shouldn’t have to.”<\/p>\n

“I’m his wife. You’re his mother. Those aren’t the same thing.”<\/p>\n

“I know.”<\/p>\n

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<\/div>\n
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And for the first time, I actually did.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

I stepped back and looked at the DJ.<\/p>\n

“Can you start the song over?”<\/p>\n

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A few people laughed softly.<\/p>\n

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I looked at David. “From the beginning.”<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

Rachel gave me a small smile.<\/p>\n

I walked off the dance floor.<\/p>\n

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<\/div>\n
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David took Rachel’s hand. The music restarted.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

This time, I watched properly.<\/p>\n

No scorekeeping. No jealousy.<\/p>\n

No wondering whether David loved me less because he loved her.<\/p>\n

I just watched my son dance with his wife.<\/p>\n

And they looked happy. Truly happy.<\/p>\n

I sat down beside Diane.<\/p>\n

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<\/div>\n
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She handed me a napkin. “You okay?”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

I gave her a wet laugh. “You’re enjoying this.”<\/p>\n

“A little.”<\/p>\n

I looked down at my dress. “I look ridiculous.”<\/p>\n

“You do.”<\/p>\n

“Diane.”<\/p>\n

“You want me to start lying now?”<\/p>\n

I laughed again.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n
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<\/div>\n
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I didn’t change. There wasn’t much point.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

The damage had been done, and honestly, sitting in that dress for the rest of the evening felt appropriate.<\/p>\n

People mentioned it.<\/p>\n

Not cruelly, mostly.<\/p>\n

An aunt quietly said, “I’m glad you realized.”<\/p>\n

One of David’s friends told me, “That apology took guts.”<\/p>\n

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Another woman was less gentle. “I couldn’t believe you wore that.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

I couldn’t blame her. Every time I looked down, I remembered what I had done.<\/p>\n

But something else happened that night.<\/p>\n

Rachel kept including me.<\/p>\n

She asked me to join a group photograph with her friends.<\/p>\n

She pulled me into a group dance.<\/p>\n

When dessert came out, she brought me a slice because she remembered I liked lemon cake.<\/p>\n

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<\/div>\n
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That kindness humbled me more than anger ever could have.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

Over the next year, I worked hard to change.<\/p>\n

When David and Rachel chose a house, I didn’t criticize the neighborhood.<\/p>\n

When they spent Christmas morning with Rachel’s parents, I didn’t complain.<\/p>\n

When David went a week without calling, I didn’t send a message asking whether he’d forgotten he had a mother.<\/p>\n

And strangely, the less I pulled at him, the closer we became.<\/p>\n

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<\/div>\n
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He called because he wanted to. Rachel called too.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

Sometimes without him.<\/p>\n

Two years after the wedding, I sat in their living room holding my granddaughter, Emma.<\/p>\n

She was six weeks old.<\/p>\n

Rachel was curled up on the other end of the couch, exhausted.<\/p>\n

David had fallen asleep in a chair.<\/p>\n

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<\/div>\n
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Emma made a tiny squeaking sound and wrapped her fingers around mine.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

I looked at Rachel. “Thank you.”<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

Her eyes opened. “For what?”<\/p>\n

“For giving me another chance.”<\/p>\n

She smiled sleepily. “You used it well.”<\/p>\n

I looked down at the baby.<\/p>\n

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<\/div>\n
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For years, I thought becoming less central in David’s life meant I was losing him.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

I understand now how wrong I was.<\/p>\n

Nobody can take my place as his mother.<\/p>\n

Just like I could never take Rachel’s place as his wife.<\/p>\n

There was room for both of us.<\/p>\n

I almost turned a kind woman into an enemy because I was terrified of becoming unnecessary.<\/p>\n

Instead, she taught me something I should have understood long before her wedding day.<\/p>\n

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<\/div>\n
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Love isn’t a chair someone can steal when you stand up.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

Making room for another person doesn’t leave you with less.<\/p>\n

Sometimes it gives you more.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

I looked at my granddaughter sleeping against my chest, then at my son and the woman he chose.<\/p>\n

I had wanted so badly to remain the most important woman in David’s life.<\/p>\n

Now I was grateful I wasn’t. He had Rachel.<\/p>\n

And because I finally stopped fighting her for a place she had never tried to take from me, I had gained a daughter too.<\/p>\n

If you were Rachel, would you have handled Carol’s dress with the same restraint, or would you have confronted her before the ceremony even began?<\/strong><\/p>\n

Looking for another story with plenty of drama and a satisfying twist?<\/strong>\u00a0You might enjoy\u00a0<\/strong>this one<\/strong><\/a>:\u00a0<\/strong>For months, I suspected my neighbor was behind every strange thing happening around my home. Then I woke to a ruined car, no evidence, and a furious knock that changed the fight.<\/p>\n

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I spent months telling myself my dress was only “similar” to my daughter-in-law’s. Same color, same length, same kind of lace, but surely not close enough to matter. I believed…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-852","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/metropolitantimeshock.pics\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/852","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/metropolitantimeshock.pics\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/metropolitantimeshock.pics\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/metropolitantimeshock.pics\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/metropolitantimeshock.pics\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=852"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/metropolitantimeshock.pics\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/852\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":853,"href":"https:\/\/metropolitantimeshock.pics\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/852\/revisions\/853"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/metropolitantimeshock.pics\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=852"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/metropolitantimeshock.pics\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=852"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/metropolitantimeshock.pics\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=852"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}