I know who I am, I’ve got nothing to prove, and I’m proud of every gray hair and wrinkle. If my husband, Mike, felt the same way, then it could’ve prevented a lot of heartache.Mike’s been on this kick lately where he mocks my age every chance he gets. It’s like he thinks he’s some kind of stand-up comedian. “Oh, Emma, did you forget your dentures?” he’ll say, followed by his annoying laugh.

Yeah, real original, Mike. But I was determined not to let him ruin my birthday. I invited all my friends over, decorated the house, and bought a new outfit. I was so excited until Mike opened his big mouth.“You really think you can pull that off?” he asked, staring at me in disbelief. “Of course I can,” I shot back, trying not to let him get to me. Mike chuckled and shook his head.

=

“Maybe we should get you checked out for dementia since you’re clearly losing touch with reality.”His words were like a knife to my heart. I wanted to say something cutting in return, but words failed me. Then the doorbell rang. My best friend, Karen, was the first to arrive. She immediately complimented my outfit, giving my self-esteem the boost it needed after Mike’s insult. The house filled with laughter and chatter as everyone else slowly arrived. I was in my element, greeting everyone and making sure they had drinks. But Mike, of course, had to put a damper on things. “Emma, do you really think you should be drinking that wine? Isn’t it past your bedtime?

” he said loud enough for everyone to hear.A few people awkwardly chuckled, but mostly there was an uncomfortable silence. I clenched my jaw and smiled through it. “I’ll manage, Mike.” The party went on, and I tried to ignore him, but he was relentless. “You’re going to eat that cake? Do you really want to be old and fat?” he said when I reached for a slice. It took everything in me not to scream at him.