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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I Found a Girl in the Middle of an Empty Road at Night – When I Got Closer, I Went Pale
Driving alone on a foggy night, a mother spots a young girl in a tattered dress, silent and familiar. As she pulls closer, she notices that the girl’s haunted eyes hold secrets that might be better left hidden.
It was late, and the night felt thicker than usual. The fog wrapped around the car like a heavy blanket, swallowing up everything beyond the headlights. I squinted ahead, gripping the wheel tighter than usual.
Driving through the fog | Source: Pexels
“Just get home,” I muttered, rubbing my tired eyes. It had been such a long day at work, and all I wanted was my bed.
I hated this road. I’d always hated it. I usually took the main highway, but tonight, I had thought: Just a quick shortcut. It’ll save me time.
A woman driving through the fog | Source: Midjourney
Then, something caught my eye. A shadow, right in the middle of the road. I slammed on the brakes, heart pounding, and stared. The figure was barely visible, just an outline in the mist.
“Please just be a tree or a mailbox or something,” I whispered, even though I knew it wasn’t. As I rolled forward slowly, the shadow appeared to be a girl. She was thin, and her white dress seemed to cling to her in tatters.
A girl on a figgy road | Source: Midjourney
I felt an instinctual chill crawl up my spine. Everything in me screamed to turn around, to get out of there. But something stronger kept me rooted in place.
I rolled down the window a crack, my voice shaky. “Are you okay?”
Slowly, I opened the door and stepped out, flashlight in hand. I aimed it at her face, and the beam caught her features for the first time. I gasped, stumbling back. I knew that face. The pale skin, the wide eyes, the mouth parted slightly in confusion.
A woman stepping out from her car | Source: Midjourney
“Emily?” My voice was barely a whisper, but she seemed to hear me. She looked up, her eyes locking onto mine, empty and wide.
“Mommy?” Her voice was soft, barely there.
Shock and relief crashed over me. It was her. My Emily, my daughter who’d been gone for five years. She’d vanished without a trace, no sign of where she’d gone or who might have taken her. The police and search parties had all come up with nothing.
A search party going through the woods | Source: Pexels
“Emily, oh my God… it’s really you,” I stammered, taking a step closer. “Where have you been? Are you hurt?”
She blinked, her face blank. “I… don’t know,” she murmured. Her voice sounded small. It was like it hadn’t been used in years.
I swallowed, my mind racing. Trauma, maybe. I had been warned that if we ever found her, she might not remember because kids could block out things that were too painful.
A shy girl looking down | Source: Midjourney
I knelt in front of her, heart racing. “It’s okay, honey. It’s me. It’s Mom. We’re gonna go home, okay?” My hand trembled as I reached out.
I wrapped my coat around her shoulders, feeling her icy skin through the fabric. “Let’s get you out of here,” I said, guiding her to the car. She sat silently in the passenger seat, staring out the window, her expression distant.
A woman hugging her daughter | Source: Midjourney
The drive home was quiet, her gaze never leaving the foggy darkness outside. I glanced over, trying to read her face, but there was nothing, just a blank stare, as though she was somewhere else entirely.
“Emily,” I tried gently, “do you remember anything? Anything at all?”
She didn’t look at me. “A room. It was… dark. And… there was someone. I think. I think he brought food, but… I don’t remember his face.”
A sad girl in the backseat of the car | Source: Midjourney
My throat tightened. “It’s okay, honey. You’re safe now. We’re going home.”
She didn’t respond; she stared into the fog as we left the dark road behind.
As we pulled into the driveway, I felt a pang of relief. The familiar porch light, the sight of home, everything safe. But as I opened the door and led her inside, a new unease settled over me.
A house at night | Source: Pexels
Emily sat stiffly on the couch, looking around like she didn’t recognize anything. Her movements were slow, almost robotic.
“Do you… remember this place?” I asked.
She shrugged, her eyes blank. “I think so.”
Her voice was so flat, so empty. I sat beside her, reaching out, but stopped, unsure if she wanted comfort or space.
A woman talking to her mother | Source: Midjourney
“Mom,” she whispered, her voice barely there, “I’m… cold.”
I wrapped a blanket around her and sat there watching her, unsure of what to do or say.
The days that followed were a blur of quiet tension. Emily barely spoke, answering my questions in monosyllables, her gaze always elsewhere. I only heard her voice when she sang an old lullaby that I used to sing to her as a baby. I knew she couldn’t have remembered that, but I didn’t want to pry either.
A girl covering her face with her hands | Source: Pexels
One evening, I found her sitting on the floor, surrounded by old photo albums I’d stored in a closet. She had one open on her lap, her fingers tracing a picture of Mark, her father. He’d passed away when she was just a baby, so young she couldn’t possibly remember him.
“Mom?” she whispered, her brow furrowed. “I know him.”
I felt a strange chill. “Honey, that’s your dad. Remember? I told you about him.”
A sad girl hugging herself | Source: Pexels
“No,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “I know him. From… the place.” Her eyes filled with confusion, and she stared at the picture as if trying to make sense of a dream.
My throat went dry. “What place, Emily?”
Her hands trembled, and she shook her head. “I don’t know. I don’t remember… but he was there.”
A concerned woman talking to her scared child | Source: Midjourney
My mind raced. Emily couldn’t have known Mark. She was just a baby when he died. But someone who looked like him… my thoughts shifted sharply. Mark’s brother, Jake.
He looked so much like Mark that they could’ve been twins. He’d even stayed with us a few times after Mark’s death. He’d been there when I sang Emily her lullabies. A memory rushed back of Jake standing in the doorway, listening to me sing her to sleep.
Bothers posing for a photo | Source: Midjourney
I couldn’t ignore the thought any longer. I had to know the truth.
The next morning, I drove out to the old family cabin, an isolated place nestled deep in the woods on the edge of town. I hadn’t been there since Mark died.
After his passing, the cabin became a hollow shell of memories I couldn’t bear to face. And no one ever had a reason to visit it. The police hadn’t even searched there when Emily disappeared; they’d assumed it was abandoned, unimportant.
A shack in the woods | Source: Pexels
I parked the car and stepped out, the silence of the forest pressing in around me. The cabin looked just as I remembered, except more rundown. But something was off.
As I moved closer, I saw one of the windows was covered with a piece of heavy cloth. I felt a surge of unease. Why would someone cover the window?
A window covered with a peace of cloth | Source: Pexels
The door creaked as I pushed it open, and stale air hit me in a wave. Dust lay thick over everything except for a narrow trail leading toward a door in the back. My pulse quickened. I followed the trail, my shoes stirring up the dust in the silent cabin.
When I opened the back door, my stomach clenched. It was a small, dim room. And unlike the rest of the cabin, this room was eerily clean. On the floor lay a few scattered toys, faded but well-loved, as though they’d been played with often. A shiver ran through me.
A dim room with a small window | Source: Pexels
This was where she’d been.
I backed out of the room, heart pounding, and reached for my phone. Within minutes, the police were on their way.
Hours later, I sat with Emily in the living room as the officers worked at the cabin. She was quiet, her fingers clutching the edge of her blanket. When I took her hand, she looked up at me, her eyes filled with a sadness that broke my heart.
The police searching a cabin in the woods | Source: Midjourney
“Mommy… I remember now,” she whispered, her voice quivering. “I remember the man.”
I swallowed hard. “Who was it, sweetheart?”
Her voice shook. “It was Uncle Jake. He… he looked like Daddy, but different. He… he would bring me food, but he never spoke. He just sat there, outside the door. He… he used to hum that song.”
A sad girl | Source: Pexels
The police confirmed it that evening. They had enough evidence in the cabin to make an arrest. When they found Jake, he confessed, claiming he had taken Emily to “protect” her, that he’d wanted to be the one she depended on.
It was twisted and sick, and knowing he’d been that close to us all those years made my skin crawl.
A sad man covering his face with his hands | Source: Pexels
When they told Emily, she broke down, sobbing, the weight of years of silence finally releasing. I held her close, rocking her as she cried, whispering over and over, “You’re safe now. No one will ever take you away again.”
The days that followed were quiet, but a warmth was beginning to bloom again between us. Emily started to talk more, little by little, and she would hum that old lullaby at night, almost as if testing if it was safe to hear it again.
A woman drawing with her daughter | Source: Pexels
One evening, as we sat by the window, she leaned into me, resting her head on my shoulder. I began to hum the lullaby softly, how I used to when she was little. She looked up at me, and for the first time, I saw a spark of peace in her eyes.
“I love you, Mommy,” she whispered.
I held her close, tears slipping down my cheeks. “I love you too, sweetheart. Forever.”
A girl kissing her mother | Source: Freepik
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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