My Husband Bullied Me over My ‘Wrinkled Face’ and Gray Hair – He Regretted It Instantly
I believed I knew the man I married for 17 years. Then he began to disparage me online by comparing me to younger ladies and making nasty remarks about my gray hair and wrinkles. My belief in karma was restored by what transpired afterward.
Hello everyone. I’m 41 years old, and my name is Lena. I honestly thought that my marriage to Derek was fulfilling until approximately a year ago. Since we were young, we had been together.
Ella, who is now sixteen, and Noah, who is twelve, are our two lovely children. Our house was adorned with pictures and memories of our family.
In retrospect, I see that I had been living a pattern that was gradually destroying my identity, bit by bit, without my knowledge.
It was so tiny at first that I nearly missed it. Derek began telling what he called jokes while I was in my late 30s. The sort that, at first glance, sounded like innocent banter between a married couple. However, they had a sharp edge that felt like small splinters digging into my flesh.
He would glance up from his coffee in the morning and smile if I came downstairs without makeup. “Wow, what a difficult night. You appear worn out.
I partially laughed when I showed him my first gray hair, which I had discovered while getting dressed one morning. “I guess I’m married to Grandma now,” he replied after laughing as well. Shall I begin referring to you as Nana?
I initially assured myself that Derek was simply being himself. However, as the months passed, I became aware that something had changed. The only thing he mentioned regarding my appearance was the mocking. He no longer told me I looked beautiful or offered any more comments.
He was using his phone to browse Instagram when I walked into the living room one Saturday morning. I noticed a young fitness influencer on his screen when I looked over his shoulder.
When I moved, Derek looked up at me and murmured, “See, that’s what taking care of yourself looks like.” He didn’t even realize I was standing there.
That day, something inside of me cracked a little, but I laughed it off.
The brutality continued after that. In fact, it grew worse.
One night in particular comes to mind.
At Derek’s workplace, I had genuinely tried to attend their yearly party. I put on makeup, styled my hair, and purchased a new dress. I felt very good when I arrived downstairs, and Derek gave me a hard look.
When he eventually remarked, “Maybe just a touch more makeup,” “You don’t want people to think I’m out with my mom.”
Something inside of me suddenly collapsed as I stood in our hallway with my purse in my hand.
I excused myself from the party that night to use the restroom.
I positioned myself before the mirror and examined my reflection.
That’s when I understood that the one guy who was meant to make me feel safe had been spending all of his time making me feel insecure, which is why I hadn’t felt beautiful in months.
I recommended that we should attend a couples therapist to work things out before it was too late when we came home that evening.
In fact, Derek made fun of me.
He said, “Therapy can’t fix gravity, babe,” and then he went to bed upstairs.
I couldn’t get that line out of my head for weeks. Every time I looked in the mirror, it was playing repeatedly.
gravity. As like there was nothing anyone could do to stop me from simply collapsing.
Then came the day that made all the difference. The day I learned of the affair.
It was entirely by mistake that I found it. When Derek went to take a shower, he left his laptop open on the kitchen counter.
Just as I was passing it, a notification appeared on the screen. An emoji of a small kiss appears after the name of the sender, Tanya.
I would like to say that I handled it with dignity and elegance, but I didn’t. I immediately stared at that notification and froze.
Then I clicked on it before I could stop myself.
I felt physically ill from the messages that appeared. They were so nonchalant and flirtatious, like if I didn’t even exist.
According to her profile, Tanya, who was 29 years old, was a wellness influencer. She frequently sent Derek selfies, generally following a cosmetic procedure. After lash extensions, Botox touch-ups, and an experiment with a novel facial treatment.
I have a particular message ingrained in my mind.
“I’m excited for our couples massage on Saturday, sweetie,” she wrote. You’re worthy of someone who looks for herself.
I was at a loss for words, so I refrained from confronting Derek when he emerged from the shower. When he got home from work in the evening, I spoke with him.
When he entered, I refrained from screaming. I just asked, “Who’s Tanya?” while glancing at him.
His jacket was still half on when he froze in the doorway. I just caught a glimpse of panic on his face. Then, as though I had done something wrong, he let out a sigh.
He remarked bluntly, “She’s someone who still cares about her appearance,” “Lena, you used to be like that. You simply gave up trying.
“Stopped trying?” I muttered. “You mean taking care of our children? Do you have a full-time job? Keeping this family together while you sought approval from a child who was preoccupied with Botox?”
He was so bold as to shrug at me.
“I just want someone who makes an effort,” he stated. “You have the option to do it. It’s not that difficult.
Something just stopped working when I looked at this man I had loved since I was a youngster. All of the hurt, rage, and love just vanished in an instant.
Calmly, “Then go live with Tanya,” I said. “Maybe she will love you more than I ever could.”
Derek packed his stuff and departed that evening. He actually moved into a downtown apartment to live with a woman whose value was determined by her Instagram likes, leaving behind our house, our children, and everything we had achieved.
The initial weeks following his departure were ruthless. I stayed up at night, sobbed, and just gazed at the empty rooms of the house. I felt like I was worthless and abandoned, just as Derek had made me feel for years.
Then, however, things began to change.
My house began to feel lighter without Derek’s incessant groaning and criticism, without those disappointed expressions that appeared whenever I entered a room. As if I could breathe once more.
Before work, I went for long walks, something I hadn’t done in years.
About a month after Derek’s departure, I was putting Noah to bed one evening when Ella showed up in his doorway.
“Mom,” she uttered softly. “You’ve got a bigger smile now. I mean, genuinely smile. Not the phony grin you ever wore.
I came to a realization at that point that completely altered my life. For years, I had been trying to make myself smaller, quieter, and less in order to win over someone who would never be happy.
And now that he was gone, I was at last returning to my true self.
Derek’s ideal new life, meanwhile, was disintegrating in the most predictable manner imaginable. His social media was initially dominated by filtered photos of him and Tanya together. Mutual friends continued to give me screenshots even after I muted his accounts.
“Guess he moved on fast,” one friend emailed me.
“Good for him.” I simply typed back, grinning.
Then, however, the tone of those messages began to shift.
When Derek first started phoning, the calls were about mundane matters like bills that needed to be paid and mail that had arrived at the residence.
Before long, his calls changed.
“How are the children doing, hello? They are missed.
“Hey, that lasagna you used to make was on my mind. No one cooks as well as you do.
Lastly, the statement “Hey, Tanya’s kind of a lot to deal with.”
Later, I learned what was going on.
Tanya appeared to be precisely as she appeared on Instagram. High-maintenance barely scratched the surface. She spent hours each day at different spas and salons.
Cooking could harm her nails, therefore she avoided doing it. Because chemicals were harmful to her skin, she avoided cleaning. Laundry was something she refused to do because the detergent was “toxic.”
Derek had stated that Tanya treated him like a wallet with arms, according to one of his coworkers. She was only concerned with whether he could afford her next expensive purse or cosmetic surgery.
I wish I could say that after hearing all of this, I felt terrible for him, but I didn’t.
I made the decision to take care of myself. I therefore enrolled in a neighborhood art class at the downtown community center. It felt like liberation, even if it was only a basic painting workshop for beginners.
It was there that I met Mark. The teacher was a forty-year-old widowed art educator with the kindest sense of humor. He never made me feel foolish for mismixing colors or not understanding technical jargon. He would simply approach my easel and make discreet recommendations.
He commented, “You have the kind of beauty that lives in quiet details,” after he had seen the painting I had been working on one evening after class. Not the conspicuous, noisy sort. The kind that causes others to pause.”
I believe I finally understood I wasn’t broken at that point. Simply put, I had been invisible for so long that I had forgotten what it was like to be genuinely noticed.
Derek lost his work in the interim, and his money began to run out. Tanya left him at that point. She moved in with a personal trainer who had double Derek’s Instagram following and was half his age. Our common friends said that Derek was devastated. In fact, he had believed she loved him.
When he called me again, he sounded pitiful. I had never heard his voice before; it was tiny and urgent.
“I miss home, Lena. You and the children are missed. I now realize that I fouled everything up. Can we have a conversation? Would you please?”
I invited him to stop by the house to retrieve his remaining belongings. That was it.
The next Saturday, I hardly recognized him when he arrived. He appeared exhausted, fat, and desperate—so much older than I remembered. There was something despondent about the way he handled himself, and his clothes didn’t fit him perfectly.
When I opened the door, he looked at me for a long time.
Softly, “You look amazing,” he remarked. Indeed, Lena. You appear more attractive than you have in years.
I gave him a smile. Derek, this is how I’ve always looked. You simply stopped interacting with me.
He had nothing to say about that. He simply nodded and went inside to retrieve his box of stuff, his eyes glossy with tears he refused to let fall. As he walked out, I shut the door behind him and experienced a profound sense of calm.
The tale doesn’t stop there, though.
I received a text from a mutual buddy a few weeks following Derek’s visit. There was only a single line and an emoji of laughter.
“This is unbelievable. Derek’s Botox reaction was negative.
I asked her what had happened over the phone right away.
Derek apparently had an obsession with regaining Tanya’s affection after she left him. In an attempt to appear younger and more appealing, he had begun visiting her cheap cosmetic surgeon.
He had received Botox injections in the areas surrounding his eyes and forehead.
However, there was a problem with the process. He was momentarily paralyzed in half. He was unable to raise one eyebrow or move one side of his mouth correctly.
I sat on my couch in pure shock for a solid minute after hearing this. Then I burst out laughing. Not really, not in a mean way. More in an almost awe-inspiring manner. Because the irony was simply too good to be true.
Derek had made fun of me for years because of every single wrinkle, gray hair, and indication that I was growing older like a regular person.
Because I no longer looked twenty-five, he had made me feel unworthy. And suddenly he was unable to move his own face. He now had to deal with an uncontrollable appearance.
It was quite lovely, and that was karma’s sense of comedy.
Derek had been gone for a whole year. He works at a job that pays half as much as his previous one and rents a modest apartment on the outskirts of town. Although I don’t really keep track anymore, I’ve heard that he’s dating someone new.
I occasionally notice the lines around my eyes when I look in the mirror. After 41 years of life, I can see how my face has evolved. And I no longer despise what I see. My story is told in those lines. They serve as evidence that I have truly lived, and I am now proud of them.
I simply smile and respond honestly when people ask me if I ever think about Derek or if I miss what we had.
“He made fun of me for all the wrinkles on my face for years. He is now unable to move at all.
That might be petty. Perhaps it’s simply justice. In any case, I’ll accept it.
