Tammy Hembrow is a fitness influencer, entrepreneur, and mother known for her inspiring journey and dedication to wellness
However, her public life haven’t been without controversy, as she’s faced both admiration and critique along the way.
And now it’s a bikini photo of Tammy that’s making headlines and sparking reactions – but can you see what people are really upset about?
Known for her massive social media following, Tammy Hembrow, 30, is no stranger to controversy.
The fitness guru, entrepreneur, and mother has made waves with her inspiring workout routines, stunning transformation posts, and candid insights into her journey of motherhood. But with the fame and adoration, there’s also backlash.
Hembrow’s presence online is undeniably polarizing – one moment she’s sharing a powerful fitness achievement, the next, she’s at the center of a firestorm for something many find shocking.
And now, she’s back in the headlines for yet another post she made on Instagram, in October.
Bold crochet bikini
The Australian-born influencer, with more 17 million followers on Instagram, was all about soaking up the sun and sharing her beachside vibes with her followers.
She posted a series of fun, sun-kissed photos, rocking a bright crochet bikini in bold shades of orange, yellow, and pink. Posing effortlessly on the sand dunes, she flaunted her trim waist and confident beach style.
For Tammy, it was the perfect way to embrace summer Down Under. However, not everyone was a fan.
Tammy Hembrow has long been no stranger to controversy over her bikini posts. In the past, when she shared photos in a bikini from the brand Minimale Animale, which was the epitome of minimalism with just the right amount of coverage that seemed to blend seamlessly with her figure.
Detractors wasted no time calling it “unwearable” and joking it looked like “a piece of floss.”
Some people really love the bold design and think it looks great, but others are raising eyebrows, wondering if those types of swimsuits are actually practical for everyday beach or pool time. On said that Tammy embodies everything wrong with society wrapped up in a tacky package.
“Unhealthy looking”
Fast forward to October 2024, and Tammy once again found herself facing questioning comments.
One critic called her “unhealthy looking,” while another wrote, “I admire your fit body and how you’ve maintained it even after 3 children… But I think natural is really the best route to optimal health.” Despite the fact that the majority of her followers praised the post, Tammy is all too familiar with the odd and nasty remarks that comes whenever she posts new photos.
”I used to get told all the time that being strong isn’t sexy or feminine. A few years into my training, it became a daily occurrence,” she shared.
Last year, the Mega-influencer found herself under fire once again for posting bold bikini photos in the sun, just weeks after revealing that a “little freckle” on her leg turned out to be skin cancer.
The fitness star shared that the spot had required a large chunk of her leg to be removed, leaving her with a 30-stitch wound. Yet, despite the serious health scare, she posted photos of herself sunbathing in swimwear, with the bandage from her surgery clearly visible. This move sparked outrage among some followers.
“OMG, U (sic) just had a melanoma removed and r (sic) sunbathing,” one follower commented on Hembrow’s post.
“You’re another type of thick if you’re sunbathing after just having a melanoma removed,” another one wrote.
“Why are you sunbathing when you just had a cancer scare? Seems irresponsible and honestly downright dumb,” a third person said.
Some people are also saying that, as a mom of three, Tammy’s super fit body might make other moms feel like they can’t measure up.
They think it sets an unrealistic standard for what a mom’s body should look like.
And honestly, a lot of folks are wondering if her lifestyle is even doable for everyone— especially when you’ve got kids to take care of and a million other things to juggle.
While many admire Tammy’s dedication to fitness and her confidence, others feel compelled to weigh in, critiquing her choices, body, and image.
Tammy is often praised for her fit physique, but some critics argue that her highly toned body promotes an unrealistic standard of beauty.
This push and pull between admiration and criticism shines a light on how we view beauty and health in today’s world. The truth is, there’s no one-size-fits-all definition of what’s “healthy” or “ideal.” What do you think?
AT 78, I SOLD EVERYTHING I HAD AND BOUGHT ONE WAY TICKET TO SEE THE LOVE OF MY LIFE – IN THE PLANE, MY DREAM WAS CRUSHED
The worn leather of the suitcase felt rough against my trembling hands. Forty years. Forty years of regret, of guilt gnawing at my soul. Forty years since I had last seen Elizabeth, the love of my life. Forty years since my own stupidity had torn us apart.
I glanced at the address scribbled on a crumpled piece of paper, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs. 123 Maple Street, Willow Creek, Ohio. It felt like a destination in a dream, a place I had only ever dared to imagine.
The plane ride was a blur. My mind raced, a whirlwind of memories and “what ifs.” What would she look like now? Would she still have that mischievous glint in her eyes, that infectious laugh that used to fill our small apartment? Would she recognize me, this old man, weathered by time and regret?
As the plane began its descent, a wave of dizziness washed over me. I gripped the armrests, my knuckles white. My chest felt tight, a burning sensation spreading through my lungs. Voices, muffled and distant, seemed to come from far away.
“Sir, are you alright?”
I tried to respond, but only a strangled gasp escaped my lips. The world tilted, then plunged into darkness.
When I awoke, I was in a sterile white room, the smell of antiseptic filling my nostrils. A blurry image of concerned faces swam into view – a nurse, a doctor, a young woman with kind eyes.
“Where… where am I?” I croaked, my voice weak and raspy.
“You’re at St. Jude’s Hospital, sir,” the young woman said gently. “You suffered a heart attack. You’re lucky to be alive.”
Heart attack. The words echoed in my mind, a stark reminder of my mortality. But a different thought, more urgent, pushed its way to the forefront. Elizabeth.
“Elizabeth,” I rasped, my voice hoarse. “Is she… is she here?”
The young woman hesitated, her eyes filled with a mixture of concern and uncertainty. “I… I don’t know, sir. Who is Elizabeth?”
My heart sank. Had I imagined it? Had the years of loneliness and regret twisted my mind, creating a fantasy, a desperate hope?
Days turned into weeks. I spent my recovery in the hospital, haunted by the uncertainty. The doctors assured me that I was stable, but the fear of losing consciousness again, of never seeing Elizabeth, lingered.
One afternoon, as I sat by the window, watching the world go by, a familiar figure appeared in the doorway. A woman, her hair streaked with silver, her eyes crinkled at the corners. She was more beautiful than I remembered, her face etched with the lines of time, yet her smile was the same, the same smile that had captivated me all those years ago.
“Arthur,” she whispered, her voice trembling.
Tears welled up in my eyes. It was her. Elizabeth.
She rushed towards me, her arms open wide. I held her close, burying my face in her hair, inhaling the scent of lavender, a scent that transported me back to a time of youthful dreams and endless possibilities.
“I never stopped loving you, Arthur,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I never stopped waiting.”
And in that moment, I knew that despite the years that had passed, despite the pain and the regret, love, true love, had a way of finding its way back home.
As we held each other, the world seemed to melt away. The years of separation, the loneliness, the fear – all of it seemed insignificant compared to the joy of holding her in my arms once more. We had lost so much time, but we still had now. And that, I realized, was all that truly mattered. The worn leather of my suitcase felt rough against my trembling hands. Forty years. Forty years of longing, of regret, of a life lived in a perpetual twilight. Forty years since I had last seen Elizabeth, the love of my life, the woman whose laughter still echoed in the empty chambers of my heart.
I remembered the day vividly. The rain was coming down in sheets, mirroring the storm brewing inside me. We were arguing, a petty disagreement blown out of proportion by youthful pride and stubbornness. I had stormed out, my words echoing in the rain-slicked street. “Fine,” I had spat, “I don’t need you!”
I hadn’t meant it. Not really. But the words hung heavy in the air, a cruel echo of my own anger. I walked for hours, the rain washing away my pride and replacing it with a growing dread. When I finally returned, the lights in our small apartment were off. I called her name, my voice cracking with fear, but there was no answer.
The police found her car abandoned by the river, a chilling testament to the storm that had raged within me. The search parties, the endless waiting, the gnawing uncertainty – it had aged me beyond my years. The vibrant hues of life had faded, replaced by a monotonous grey.
Then, a miracle. A letter, tucked amongst a pile of bills and advertisements, a faded envelope bearing a familiar handwriting. “I’ve been thinking of you,” it read.
The words, simple yet profound, ignited a fire within me. Hope, a fragile ember that had long since been extinguished, flickered back to life. I devoured every letter, each one a precious piece of her, a glimpse into the life she had built. I learned about her children, her grandchildren, her passions, her joys, and her sorrows. And with each letter, the ache in my heart lessened, replaced by a yearning so intense it almost consumed me.
Then, the invitation. “Come,” it read, “Come see me.”
She had included her address.
And so, here I was, 78 years old, sitting on a plane, my hands trembling, my heart pounding like a drum against my ribs. I hadn’t flown in decades. The world outside the window, a blur of clouds and sky, mirrored the chaos within me.
Suddenly, a sharp pain erupted in my chest. I gasped for air, my vision blurring. Voices, distant and muffled, filled my ears. “Sir, are you alright?” “We need to get him some air!”
Panic clawed at my throat. Not now. Not when I was finally this close.
Then, through the haze, I saw her face. Her eyes, the same shade of hazel as mine, wide with concern.
“John?” she whispered, her voice trembling.
And in that moment, time seemed to stand still. The pain, the fear, the decades of longing – they all faded away. All that remained was her. Elizabeth.
Tears welled up in my eyes, blurring her face. But I knew. I knew it was her.
And as I slipped into unconsciousness, I whispered her name, a silent prayer, a love song carried on the wind.
I woke up in a hospital room, the scent of antiseptic filling my nostrils. Elizabeth sat beside me, her hand gently clasped in mine.
“You gave me quite a scare,” she said, her voice soft as a summer breeze.
I managed a weak smile. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”
And as I looked at her, at the lines etched on her face, the silver strands in her hair, I knew that this was just the beginning. We had forty years to catch up on, to rediscover the love we had lost. Forty years to make up for the time we had wasted.
And as I held her hand, I knew that this time, nothing would ever tear us apart again.
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