Moms are known for embarrassing their kids. But if you’re Dakota Johnson and your mom is famous actress Melanie Griffith, the embarrassment level goes up when she introduces you to the President of the United States.
While talking about some of her past movie roles, like The Social Network from 2010, Dakota shared with Vanity Fair how she felt a bit embarrassed during her first meeting with Barack Obama, all because of her mom.
“One time, I was with my mom, and we were meeting Barack Obama, which was a big deal,” Dakota recalled. “He was talking to her, and she said, ‘Oh, Mr. President, this is my daughter. She just did a movie. She’s an actress too. She was in The Social Network.’”
But instead of stopping there, her mom added an embarrassing detail, telling the former president, “She’s in her underwear.” In the movie, Dakota plays a college student who has a fling with Justin Timberlake’s character, Sean Parker, and in one scene, she wears an off-the-shoulder Stanford sweatshirt and bright red underwear.
About the experience, Dakota joked, “And I died. I died inside.”
In the same video, she talked about her thoughts before working with Justin Timberlake on The Social Network. “Are you kidding? I was just 19 and straddling Justin Timberlake and whipping him in the face with my hair,” Dakota said when asked if she had any ideas about acting with the former boy band member. “I definitely had some preconceived notions, but he was really nice and welcoming, especially since I was just a stranger.”
My Stepdaughter Surprised Me with a Car for My 55th Birthday, Discovering What Was Inside the Glove Box Left Me Speechless
Receiving a car from my stepdaughter, Emily, on my 55th birthday was the last thing I expected, especially given our rocky relationship. She handed me the keys and mentioned there was another surprise in the glove compartment. What I found inside changed everything between us.
Being a stepmom often feels like a balancing act, trying to be a parent without overstepping boundaries. For ten years, I navigated this tightrope with Emily. I met her father, David, at work, and after becoming friends, we started dating. He had lost his wife a year before we met, and his focus was on Emily, his cherished daughter. As our relationship deepened, I wondered about our future together. David expressed his love for me but worried about how Emily would react to a new stepmother.
When I married David, I knew it would be complicated. Emily was only 12 and still grieving her mother. My first meeting with her was tense; she barely spoke and quickly retreated to her room. This set the tone for our relationship. I tried my best to connect, but she remained distant, polite but always keeping me at arm’s length.
I remember putting together a surprise party for her 13th birthday, hoping it would help us bond. Although she smiled at the decorations, she still held back emotionally, creating a barrier between us. Despite the challenges, David and I were happy together. However, everything changed when David died in a car accident five years ago, leaving Emily and me to navigate our grief alone.
In that dark time, I promised to be there for Emily. But even as we became each other’s only family, I sensed that she merely tolerated me. As she grew more independent, starting a career in marketing, our interactions felt more like a formality than a genuine connection. I longed for a warm relationship, but it often felt one-sided.
Last Thanksgiving was particularly hard; Emily barely acknowledged me at a family gathering, deepening my feelings of being an outsider. So, when Emily called just before my birthday to take me out for a special dinner, I felt a flicker of hope. She picked me up in a sleek red convertible, and I thought it might finally be a sign of her acceptance.
When she handed me the keys, her voice felt distant and flat, almost like she was just fulfilling an obligation. I managed to thank her, but the dinner felt awkward and forced. It was hard to shake the feeling that the car was more of a way to alleviate her guilt than a genuine gift.
As we parked, Emily mentioned another surprise in the glove compartment. My heart raced as I opened it, revealing a stack of drawings from her childhood. My breath caught as I saw the stick-figure versions of us, with me labeled as “Mom” and captions like “Mom and Me”.
Tears filled my eyes as the realization hit: Emily had seen me as her mom all along, despite the distance between us. When I expressed my shock, she admitted she loved me but felt guilty calling me “Mom” because of her birth mother.
In that moment, the walls that had stood between us for years crumbled. We embraced tightly, tears streaming down our faces. That evening, we shared everything—our fears, doubts, and cherished moments. Finally, I felt the deep bond of a mother and daughter.
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