My mother once told me that I was evil. Mind you, it was a word she used fairly liberally anyway, but I never forgot it.
My father once told me that I looked like a Soho tart. I was maybe 14, had long naturally blonde hair (loose) and was wearing a mini skirt. So to him, at that stage of the 60s, maybe I did, but I never forgot that, either.
When I was a student, home for the holidays (late 60s/early 70s) my DM once borrowed a coat of mine to nip to the shops. In a pocket she found a Marxist Society leaflet that had been thrust at me outside the Student Union one lunchtime.
Well, talk about shock horror! They absolutely refused to believe that I had zero interest, that it was something I’d just had thrust at me and shoved in a pocket.
My DF actually said, ‘If you have turned communist, you will no longer be welcome in this house!’
I threw this back at them during a row years later, and they did have the grace to admit that they’d been wrong.
I did generally get on pretty well with them, believe it or not!
Oh, and when my mother was once in one of her famous sulks (usually after a row with DF) making the atmosphere at home horrible, I walked quite a way into town and spent my entire (very meagre) pocket money on some flowers for her. I was only about 12, and when I gave them to her, she just said, very grumpily, ‘I don’t want them.’
That was perhaps the most hurtful, and with dds of my own, I’ve often wondered how on earth she could have said such a thing.
Thanks, OP - DPs are long gone now but it’s been cathartic to write this!