On my 50th birthday, I was set to launch the fitness program I’d spent five years building—until my husband, Travis, publicly humiliated me. That night, he mocked my age, praised his 25-year-old secretary, and declared he was leaving me. Worse, he did it in front of our guests. I locked myself in the bathroom, humiliated—but I swore I’d make him regret it.
A week earlier, I’d overheard Travis whining about having to help with his company’s summer Wellness Day. That gave me an idea. I reached out to Claire, his company’s feminist powerhouse CEO—and a plank-holding queen. I told her everything. She didn’t hesitate. “Let’s make him show how strong he really is.”
On Wellness Day, my team and I led the event. I plastered Travis’ cruel quotes—“Wrinkles aren’t a style” and “You’re too old for me now!”—on T-shirts, towels, and banners. Beneath each: He said it. I turned it into a business. Proceeds went to women’s shelters. The centerpiece? A cartoon of a beer-bellied man in briefs yelling: “You should’ve gotten the filler.” It looked exactly like Travis.
He showed up right on cue, Brittany in tow. When she squealed, “It’s you, baby!” the crowd erupted. Claire announced that all executives had to join the fitness challenge. Travis barely survived 12 seconds of planking, then ripped his pants during squats. He stormed off, humiliated.
The event went viral. My program sold out for six months. I didn’t just reclaim my voice—I built a brand on it.
And Travis? He’s now a meme. Deservedly so.
