As a handsome carpenter, Ty Pennington rose to fame; nevertheless, he no longer looks the same. Regretfully, the 58-year-old celebrity has experienced criticism and bullying on social media. He has been dubbed “disgusting,” “fat,” and “gross” by others. Ty finally had enough, and his most recent response to the critics is outstanding.
Several people have fallen in love with Ty Pennington, the host of Extreme Makeover: Home Edition, ever since he made an appearance on the well-liked BBC show Trading Spaces, where he worked as a carpenter. Being incredibly talented and attractive, it was no surprise that Ty was asked to host one of the greatest programs for the underprivileged.
Ty was in the spotlight as the show’s host, but being on the set had its costs. He had a hard time finding time for himself.
“I went ten years without seeing my family or a partner. In 2019, he told The Atlanta Constitution, “I would go out again, come home, do laundry.”
“My God! People from the old TV show exclaimed when they saw me. You look fantastic! I slept for a while! I think my appearance has improved significantly from the time I was on the show.
To be honest, Ty wasn’t always interested in being a builder. Instead, he intended to become a graphic designer and worked in construction to help pay for art school. However, his modeling career was derailed by a near-fatal car accident, so he resorted to carpentry.
“My career appeared to take off overnight. Sadly, fate had other ideas. I would be in a terrible vehicle accident only a week later,” he posted on Instagram. “I put my one good headshot on display, grabbed my handy tool bag, and returned to carpentry and construction. I received an audition call for Trading Spaces nine years later, and the rest is history.
He first made his Hollywood debut as a set designer for Nicholas Cage’s 1995 picture Leaving Las Vegas, but it wasn’t until he appeared as a builder on Trading Spaces—the show that upended preconceived notions about home remodeling—that he became well-known.
Ty moved on to other endeavors when Extreme Makeover: Home Edition, which had won him two Prime Time Emmy Awards, was canceled back in 2011. He appeared on The Revolution, an ABC chat show, and then On The Menu and American Diner Revival, two cookery programs. In addition, he launched a design store in Los Angeles. In addition to participating in the third season of Deluxe Corporation’s Small Business Revolution: Main Street, Ty renovated Trading Spaces in 2018. He was seen hosting Battle on the Beach most recently.
He wasn’t asked to return to Extreme Makeover: Home Edition when the show recently aired again, but he insisted there are no ill will or ill blood.
Ty currently hosts the program Rock the Block and serves as a mentor and design consultant on HGTV’s Battle on the Beach.
In November 2021, Ty tied the knot with 33-year-old Kellee Merrell, a social media manager. He announced the wonderful news on Instagram by sharing a picture with the remark, “It’s the ‘yes’ for me,” and proposed to her with a stunning tea-drop-shaped diamond ring.
Although they have known each other for a long time, they didn’t begin dating until last year when they happened to cross paths.
“I’ve long admired Kellee from a distance. Ty told People, “She’s a beautiful person on the inside and out.”
Fortunately, the proper moment finally came for our paths to cross. It’s one of those situations where being with someone makes you feel content. She altered my perception of marriage, which I had never held. I’m happy I held out for the one.
After several viewers pointed out that he no longer had a six-pack, the host shared a humorous video of him from the beach last year with his shorts hiked up to his stomach. He also remarked that “he was pushing his stomach out.”
“What was an honest moment of just trying to make my wife laugh, was then picked apart by strangers- with a lot of views, comes a lot of hate!” he said in a lengthy Instagram post titled “Thoughts on Aging,” in response to the criticism. Remarks such as “gross,” “disgusting,” “grandpa,” “he got fat,” “omg he’s so old now,” etc.And I pondered whether I would receive the same remarks if I was still in good health. “Maybe we should extend the same grace to men as we do to women? There has been such a force behind accepting all shapes and sizes and aging in the female community, which is AWESOME (keep it coming),” he said.
Of course, he was much younger than he is now when he made his television debut.
“Every day, I get a ton of comments like, ‘NOOOo, what happened to him????’ The other day, I heard someone say, “lack of exercise,” which I hope was accurate! Seven days a week, I work out harder than I have ever worked out in my life (this over 50 sh*t is no joke). It’s been 22 years since my television debut, so here’s what occurred! He penned. “No, I don’t have a six pack or a gorgeous head of hair with frosted tips anymore, but at 57 years old, I’ve never been happier! I do, however, have wisdom, empathy, and life lessons! All of this is to indicate, nevertheless, that I am a human being with feelings. Yes, I am older, but that’s kind of cool, in my opinion.
In our opinion, he looks fantastic.
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Husband Walks Into Hospital and Immediately Dumps Wife After Seeing Their Newborn Twins!
Here’s the article rewritten in simple language while keeping the same word count and paragraphs:
“You lied to me!” Instead of being happy about our newborn twin daughters, my husband got angry and accused me of being unfaithful. With hurtful words and a cold exit, Mark broke our family apart. Now, I’m determined to make him pay for leaving us.
I lay in the white hospital bed, feeling tired but happy. Even though my body was sore, it all felt worth it as I looked at the two beautiful baby girls resting beside me.
Midjourney
Here’s the article rewritten in simple language, maintaining the same word count, paragraph length, and removing the image sources:
The babies cooed softly, and tears of joy ran down my face. After years of trying to have children and a long, difficult pregnancy, I was finally a mom. It was the best feeling in the world!
I reached for my phone and typed a message to Mark, my husband: “They’re here. Two beautiful girls. Can’t wait for you to meet them.”
I hit send, a content smile forming on my face as I imagined his excitement.
This was supposed to be one of the happiest moments of our lives, and I never could have guessed how quickly it would turn into the worst.
A little while later, the door opened, and there he was. But instead of joy, Mark’s expression was cold — like a man walking into a meeting he didn’t want to attend.
“Hey,” I said softly, forcing a smile. “Aren’t they beautiful?”
Mark finally looked at the twins, and I saw his jaw tighten. His face showed disappointment before his lips curled in disgust.
“What is this?” he muttered, more to himself than to me.
Confusion filled me, pressing heavily against my chest. “What do you mean? They’re our daughters! What’s wrong with you, Mark?”
His gaze sharpened.
I could see the anger building up, ready to explode. And when it did, it hit like a storm.
“I’ll tell you what’s wrong: you tricked me!” he shouted. “You never told me we were having girls!”
I blinked, stunned. “Why does it matter? They’re healthy. They’re perfect!”
I reached for his hand, trying to calm him, but he yanked it away, disgust clear on his face.
“It matters a lot! This isn’t what I wanted, Lindsey! I thought we were having boys!” His voice grew louder, bouncing off the hospital walls, and I felt every word cut into me. “This family was supposed to carry on my name!”
My heart sank. “You’re serious? You’re mad because… they’re girls?”
“You’re darn right!” He stepped back like the sight of the babies made him sick. “Everyone knows only boys can carry on a legacy! You… you cheated on me, didn’t you? These can’t be mine.”
His words hit me like a punch to the gut. It felt like he knocked the air out of my lungs.
“How can you even say that?” I whispered, tears filling my eyes. “You’re really accusing me of cheating because I had daughters?”
But he was already walking toward the door, his hands clenching in anger.
“I’m not raising someone else’s kids,” he spat, his voice harsh and final. “I’m out.”
Before I could respond — before I could beg or scream or cry — he was gone. The door slammed shut behind him with a loud thud. And just like that, everything I thought I knew fell apart.
I looked down at my daughters, still in my arms, their tiny faces peaceful.
“It’s okay, sweethearts,” I whispered, though my heart felt anything but okay.
And for the first time since they were born, I started to cry.
Mark disappeared. No calls. No messages. The only news I got about him was from friends, who said he was on vacation somewhere sunny, drinking cocktails with the same guys who cheered us on at our wedding.
That’s right; he left me and went on vacation. It wasn’t just the betrayal. It was how easily he walked away, as if our life together meant nothing.
But the worst was yet to come.
I was back home, settling into a routine with the girls, when I got the first message from Mark’s mother, Sharon.
I was so relieved! Sharon was a tough woman, and I believed Mark would change his mind if his mother supported me.
My hands shook as I played Sharon’s voicemail. Her words were harsh and cruel.
“You ruined everything,” Sharon said angrily. “Mark deserved sons. How could you do this to him? To our family? How could you betray my son like this?”
I was so shocked, I dropped my phone. Her words cut deeper than anything Mark had said. To them, I hadn’t just given birth to daughters — I had failed. And they wanted me to pay for it.
I stared at my phone, trying to process this new attack.
Then my phone started ringing again. It was Sharon. I let it ring and watched as another voicemail notification popped up.
Then the texts started. Each message was more hurtful than the last. Sharon called me every name you can think of, blaming me for cheating on Mark, for having daughters, for not being a good wife… it just went on and on.
Mark’s entire family had turned against me. I was completely alone.
I tried to stay strong, but at night, the nursery became both my safe place and my prison. I’d sit in the rocking chair, holding my daughters close, whispering promises I wasn’t sure I could keep.
“I’ll protect you,” I said softly, the words as much for me as for them. “We’ll be okay. Everything will turn out just fine, you’ll see.”
But some nights, I wasn’t so sure. Sometimes, the loneliness and fear were so heavy that I thought I might break.
One night, I found myself crying as I fed the girls. It all felt like too much.
“I can’t do this anymore,” I sobbed. “It’s too hard. I can’t keep waiting…”
And then it hit me. I’d been waiting for Mark to come back and realize his mistake, but he hadn’t done anything to make me believe that would ever happen. He hadn’t even called.
I looked down at my girls and knew it was time to stand up for them and for myself.
A lawyer gave me my first bit of hope.
“With Mark’s abandonment,” she said thoughtfully, “you have a strong case. Full custody. Child support. We’ll handle visitation on your terms.”
Her words were like a lifeline. Finally, I had some control and something to fight for. And I wasn’t stopping there.
Mark wanted out? Fine. I was more than happy to divorce him, but he wouldn’t get away so easily.
I created a new social media profile, carefully sharing the story I wanted people to see.
Post after post showed my daughters’ milestones: tiny hands grabbing toys, their first smiles, and giggles. Each photo showed a piece of our happy life, and every caption carried a clear message: Mark wasn’t part of it.
Friends shared my posts, family left comments, and soon, everyone knew. Mark might have left, but I was building something beautiful without him.
The open house was my final stand. I invited everyone. The only person not welcome was Mark. I even made sure the invitation said so.
On the big day, the house was full of warmth and laughter. The twins wore matching outfits with tiny bows in their hair. Guests couldn’t stop admiring how adorable they were.
Then the door burst open, and there was Mark, angry and wild-eyed. The room fell silent.
“What is this?” he shouted. “You’ve turned everyone against me!”
I stood, my heart racing but steady. “You left us, Mark, because you didn’t want daughters. That was your choice.”
“You robbed me of my chance to pass down my legacy!” he shot back, his eyes filled with rage.
“You’re not welcome here,” I said, my voice calm. “We don’t need a man like you in our family. This is our life now.”
My friends stood beside me, their presence silent but strong. Defeated, Mark turned and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.
Weeks later, Mark received the court papers detailing the child support, custody, and visitation arrangements. He couldn’t escape. He’d still have to face the responsibility of being a father, even if he wasn’t going to be a dad.
Sharon’s final message came later — maybe an apology, maybe more anger. It didn’t matter. I deleted it without listening.
I was done with their family and done with the past.
That night, as I rocked my daughters, the future stretched out before us — bright, open, and ours alone.
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