When baby Aira was born, her parents knew she was somewhat special. With her blonde hair and big blue eyes, Aira looked stunningly beautiful and many agreed that she resembled a doll.
Although she was still just a baby, her parents decided she should be part of commercials, so they took her to a number of modelling agencies, many of which were interested to work with her.
Almost overnight, photos of Aira flooded social media and people were convinced she wasn’t real but a photoshopped photo of a cute-looking toddler. But Aira was real, and she was dubbed one of the most beautiful girls in the world.
Sadly, her engagements with modelling robbed her of her childhood and everything kids her age did. She didn’t attend kindergarten and was in front of a camera most of the time.
However, as she reached five years of age, modelling agencies were no longer interested in her as she started resembling any child out there. She wasn’t invited to photoshoots and fashion shows.
These days, Aira is nine years old, and she still gets modelling gigs, but it is very rare.
She is active on social media, but there are no photos of her from her early days when she was dubbed doll-girl.
My Granddaughter Forced Me Out for Getting Married at 80 — I Couldn’t Stand the Disrespect & Gave Her a Lesson to Remember
After my granddaughter ousted me for marrying at 80, I couldn’t accept her disrespect. Together with my new husband, Harold, we crafted a bold plan to teach her an unforgettable lesson, culminating in a family-altering confrontation.
I never imagined sharing this tale, but here it is. My name is Margaret, and I celebrated my 80th birthday last spring. I resided in a small, personalized room within my granddaughter Ashley’s home, surrounded by keepsakes of my life.
“Morning, Grandma,” Ashley would say, bursting into my room unannounced. She never knocked.
“Morning, dear,” I’d reply, tidying up my space. “What’s the hurry?”
“We’re off to the park with the kids. Need anything?”
“No, I’m good. Enjoy your day.”
After she rushed off, I reflected alone. I couldn’t complain much; after all, I had sold my house to fund her college education after her parents died tragically when she was 15.
I took her in and strived to provide a good life. Now, she lived here with her husband, Brian, and their two children, in a home that was always bustling.
Things took a turn when I met Harold at the community center months ago. He was charming, always with a camera around his neck. Our chats soon became the highlight of my week, offering a second shot at love.
One day, while Ashley was at work, I decided to share my news. I found her in the kitchen that evening, busy with a recipe book.
“Ashley, I have something to tell you,” I started.
She looked up, “What is it, Grandma?”
“I’ve met someone. His name is Harold, and… he proposed.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Proposed? You mean, marriage?”
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