Marta Stewart is, on the whole, a popular figure with fans and followers from all over the world.

Yet she’s come under fire for a recent social media post during a trip to Greenland that many are branding “tone-deaf”.

The 82-year-old was widely praised earlier this year after posing for the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit issue in May, but her most recent Instagram offering has failed to inspire the same sort of positivity.

On Tuesday, August 29, Stewart uploaded a photo of herself from a cruise that saw her take in the east coast of Greenland. The picture – one of several – shows the businesswoman and TV personality enjoying a cocktail, along with the caption:

“End of the first zodiac cruise from @swanhelleniccruises into a very beautiful fjord on the east coast of greenland. We actually captured a small iceberg for our cocktails tonight.”

Harmless though Stewart almost certainly intended her post to be, it soon evoked the ire of followers who believed her using of the “small iceberg” for her drink was in bad taste.

Before long, Stewart’s comments field was filled with people hitting out at the fact that she’d referenced a small iceberg when the “ice caps are melting”.

“Martha the ice caps are melting don’t put them in your drink,” one Instagram user wrote.

Another added: “I generally love Martha and the excesses of her life because he’s about beautiful gardens, homes, and food, but wealthy white people drinking their iceberg cocktails while the planet is in flames is a bit tone deaf.“

“So as the climate warms due to the profits of a couple thousand people, billionaires vacation to the melting icebergs, scoop them up and use them to keep their cocktails cold. That sounds like a line from a dystopian novel. Can’t make this shit up lol,” a third quipped.

“Global warming and melting ice caps but we need glacier ice for cocktails?! Talk about tone def. Been a fan for years but I’ve seen enough caviar lately as I struggle to buy groceries that I’m out,” said a fourth.

Back in May, Stewart made history as she confidently posed in daring swimsuits for cover of Sports Illustrated. The then-81-year-old also spilled the rigorous wellness routine she implemented beforehand.

“I didn’t starve myself, but I didn’t eat any bread or pasta for a couple of months,” Stewart mentioned during an appearance on the Today show.

“I went to Pilates every other day, and that was great; I’m still going to Pilates every other day ’cause it’s so great. And I just, I live a clean life anyway – good diet and good exercise and healthy skincare and all of that stuff.”

During her keynote speech at the Las Vegas event, Stewart shared how fans responded to the “authentic” cover.

“The response to it was really encouraging because it made women of all ages feel like, ‘If she can do it, then I can do it too,’” Stewart noted.

What do you think about Martha’s most recent Instagram post? Let us know in the comments box.

Every Monday, I saw an elderly man buying two movie tickets, but he always watched the film alone. Curious about his routine, I felt the need to understand his story. One chilly Monday, I decided to sit with him, unaware that this simple choice would create a meaningful connection between us.

For me, the Lumière Cinema wasn’t just a workplace, it was a peaceful escape, where the soft hum of the projector and the smell of fresh popcorn made the world’s troubles fade away. The vintage movie posters on the walls seemed to tell stories from a time I had never lived.

Every Monday morning, Henry Grace arrived right on schedule, as predictable as the sunrise. Unlike other customers who rushed in searching for change or tickets, he carried himself with calm dignity.

Henry, a tall and slender man, always dressed neatly in a navy coat. His salt and pepper hair, carefully combed back, caught the light as he walked to the counter. And every time, he made the same request:

“I’d like two tickets for the morning show, please.”

Yet, despite holding two tickets, he always watched the movie alone.

As I handed him the tickets, our fingers briefly touched his were cold from the winter air. I gave a polite smile, but my mind was full of unanswered questions.

Why two tickets? Who were they for?

“Another two tickets?” Mia teased from behind me, grinning as she helped a customer. “Maybe he’s on a double date. It has that old-school charm, you know?”

“Or maybe it’s for his imaginary friend,” Jake chuckled, shaking his head. “He could be married.”

I didn’t join in their laughter. Something about Henry made their jokes feel out of place.

I considered asking him directly, even rehearsed what I might say, but when the moment came, I couldn’t do it. It felt too personal, like prying into something that wasn’t my business.

The next Monday felt different. On my day off, I lay in bed, watching frost creep across the window. An idea slowly took shape in my mind.

What if I followed him? Not to spy, just out of curiosity. With Christmas around the corner, the air was filled with a sense of wonder and the excitement of discovering something new.

The next morning, the air felt crisp and refreshing, and the holiday lights along the street seemed to shine a little brighter.

When I stepped into the dimly lit theater, I saw Henry already seated, his figure outlined by the soft glow of the screen. He looked deep in thought, standing tall as always. When our eyes met, he gave me a small, knowing smile.

“You’re not working today,” he said gently.

I sat beside him. “I thought you might like some company.”

He chuckled softly, though there was a hint of sadness in his voice. “This isn’t just about the movies.”

“Then what is it?” I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me.

Henry leaned back, resting his hands in his lap. He was quiet for a moment, as if carefully choosing his words. Then, he finally spoke.

“Years ago,” he began, his gaze fixed on the empty screen, “there was a woman who worked here. Her name was Clara.”

I listened closely, sensing the deep emotions behind his words.

“She had a way of drawing you in,” Henry said, a gentle smile appearing on his face. “Not by being flashy or seeking attention, but by leaving a quiet, lasting impression, like a beautiful melody that stays with you. Clara was a part of this place, and this is where our story began.”

As he spoke, I could almost see it, the old theater bustling with life, the flickering light of the projector casting soft shadows on Clara’s face, their whispered conversations between films.

“One day, I asked her to see a morning movie with me on her day off,” Henry recalled. “She said yes.”

He paused, and for a moment, his expression darkened. “But she never showed up.”

“What happened?” I asked, leaning in.

“I later found out she had been fired,” he said, his voice heavy with sorrow. “When I asked the manager for her contact information, he refused and told me to stay away.” He shook his head. “I never understood why. She was just… gone.”

Henry sighed deeply, glancing at the empty seat beside him. “I moved on. I got married, built a quiet life. But after my wife passed away, I started coming back here… hoping just hoping to see her again.”

A sharp pain filled my chest. “She was the love of your life.”

“She was,” Henry said softly. “And she still is.”

“What do you remember about her?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Only her name,” he admitted. “Clara.”

“I’ll help you find her.”

The weight of my promise settled heavily on me. Clara had once worked at Lumière Cinema, but the person who fired her was my father, Mark Donovan. A man who had always kept his distance from me, barely acknowledging my presence.

Preparing to face him felt like stepping into a battle I wasn’t sure I could win. I chose a classic blazer, smoothed my hair into a neat ponytail, and made sure every detail of my appearance was polished.

Mark Donovan valued order and professionalism qualities he not only lived by but expected from everyone around him.

At the theater entrance, Henry stood holding his hat, his expression a mix of calm and unease. “Do you really think he’ll talk to us?”

“I honestly don’t know,” I admitted, pulling my coat tighter around me. “But we have to try.”

As we walked toward the cinema’s office, I found myself sharing more than I intended, maybe as a way to steady my nerves.

“My mother had Alzheimer’s,” I began, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. “It started when she was pregnant with me. Some days, she knew exactly who I was. Other days, she looked at me like I was a stranger.”

Henry listened closely. “That must have been really hard.”

“It was,” I admitted. “Especially because my dad, Mark, decided to put her in a care home. I understand why, but over time, he became more distant. After my grandmother passed, I ended up taking care of everything. He provided for us financially, but emotionally… he was never really there.”

Henry didn’t say anything, but his quiet presence was comforting. When we arrived at the cinema, I hesitated before knocking on Mark’s office door.

Inside, Mark sat at his desk, his papers neatly arranged. He met my gaze for a moment, then gave Henry a brief nod.

“What’s this about?” he asked sharply.

I took a deep breath. “This is my friend, Henry.” My voice wavered as the tension in the room grew heavier.

Mark’s expression stayed neutral. “Go on.”

“I wanted to ask about someone who used to work here years ago,” I said. “A woman named Clara.”

Mark stiffened slightly, then leaned back in his chair. “I don’t discuss former employees.”

“Please,” I urged. “Henry has been searching for her for decades. We just want the truth.”

Mark glanced at Henry, his eyes narrowing. “I don’t owe him anything. Or you.”

Henry finally spoke, his voice full of emotion. “I loved her. She was everything to me.”

Mark clenched his jaw. “Clara wasn’t her real name.”

“What?” I blinked, completely caught off guard.

“She went by Clara, but her real name was Margaret,” Mark admitted, his voice cutting through the silence. “Your mother.” He pointed at Henry. “She changed her name because she was with you and didn’t want me to find out.”

The room fell into a heavy silence.

Henry’s face turned pale. “Margaret?”

“She was pregnant when I found out about the affair,” Mark continued, his voice laced with resentment. “And it turns out… the child was yours.” He looked at me then, and for a moment, the usual coldness in his eyes wavered, revealing something deeper—maybe regret. “I thought that if I kept her away from you, she would turn to me instead. But that didn’t happen. And when you were born…”

Mark let out a long breath. “I realized I wasn’t your father.”

The words hit me like a wave, my mind spinning. “So you knew all this time?”

“I took care of her,” Mark said, looking away. “For you. But I couldn’t stay.”

Henry’s voice trembled. “Margaret was Clara?”

“To me, she was Margaret,” Mark said firmly. “But with you, it seems she wanted to be someone else.”

Henry sank into a chair, his hands shaking. “She never told me. I… I had no idea.”

I looked between them, my heart racing. Mark wasn’t my father after all.

“I think,” I said carefully, “we should go see her. Together.” I met Henry’s eyes, then turned to Mark, holding his gaze. “Christmas is about forgiveness. If there’s ever a time to make things right, it’s now.”

For a moment, I thought Mark would laugh or dismiss the idea. But to my surprise, he hesitated. His rigid expression softened just a little. Then, without a word, he grabbed his overcoat and gave a small nod.

“Alright, let’s do this,” Mark said gruffly, slipping on his coat.

The car ride to the care facility was silent. Henry sat beside me, his hands tightly clasped in his lap. Mark sat in the back, stiff and tense, staring out the window.

When we arrived, the holiday wreath hanging on the entrance door felt oddly out of place against the serious atmosphere of the building.

Inside, my mother sat by the lounge window, wrapped in a warm cardigan. She stared off into the distance, lost in a world far from the present. Her hands rested still in her lap as we approached.

“Mom,” I called softly. She didn’t respond.

Henry stepped forward, his movements careful and deliberate. He stood in front of her, a mix of hope and nervousness on his face.

“Clara,” he said gently.

Everything changed in an instant. She turned to him, her eyes sharpening as recognition flickered to life. Something inside her reignited. Slowly, she stood.

“Henry?” she whispered, her voice fragile but full of emotion.

He nodded, his own eyes glistening with tears. “It’s me, Clara.”

Tears streamed down her face as she took a cautious step toward him. “You came.”

“I never stopped waiting,” Henry said, his voice thick with emotion.

I watched them, emotions swirling inside me—joy, sadness, relief—all blending together. This was their moment, but in a way, it was mine too.

I glanced at Mark, who stood a few steps behind with his hands tucked into his pockets. His usual stern expression had softened, revealing a rare glimpse of vulnerability.

“I’m really glad you came,” I said softly.

He gave a small nod, staying quiet. His gaze lingered on my mother and Henry, and for the first time, I saw something in his eyes—regret.

Outside, snow began to fall gently, covering the world in a peaceful, white hush.

“Why don’t we keep this going?” I suggested, breaking the silence. “It’s Christmas. How about we get some hot cocoa and watch a holiday movie? Together.”

Henry’s eyes lit up with gratitude. Mark hesitated, then finally spoke.

“That sounds… nice,” he admitted, his voice softer than I’d ever heard it.

That day, four lives came together in ways none of us expected. A story that had been waiting for an ending finally found something even better—a new beginning.

Summarized:

This story follows Henry Grace, a man who visits the Lumière Cinema every Monday morning, always buying two tickets but watching the movie alone. The narrator, curious about his routine, decides to follow him and uncover the truth.

Henry eventually shares that years ago, he invited a woman named Clara, who worked at the cinema, to see a movie with him. She agreed but never showed up. Later, he learned she had been let go. Though Henry moved on, got married, and built a quiet life, he returned to the cinema after his wife passed, hoping to see Clara again.

The narrator, who has a strained relationship with his distant father, Mark Donovan, discovers that Mark was the one who fired Clara. As they confront him, Mark reveals a shocking truth—Clara’s real name was Margaret, and she was the narrator’s mother. She had been involved with Henry, and Mark, believing he was the narrator’s father, separated them. Over time, Mark realized he wasn’t actually the father but still took care of Margaret before ultimately pulling away.

Determined to reunite them, the narrator, Henry, and Mark visit Margaret at her care facility. She has Alzheimer’s, but when Henry softly calls her “Clara,” recognition sparks in her eyes. Overcome with emotion, they share a long-awaited reunion.

The moment is deeply moving for all of them, including Mark, who finally shows a hint of vulnerability. As snow falls outside, the narrator suggests they continue their time together with hot cocoa and a holiday movie. Mark hesitates but agrees, and for the first time, their lives come together in an unexpected yet hopeful way.

In the end, a story filled with loss, regret, and longing finds closure—and a new beginning.

These days, talking about gender identity and transition is more open than ever.

People who embrace their true selves share their stories, giving us a real look at what it’s like to go through this journey. One of these people out there is Jamie Wilson — a true warrior and advocate for transgender rights.

Through his powerful female-to-male transition photos, the 28-year-old shows the world how amazing it is to live as your authentic self.

Jamie Wilson is a well-known and respected voice in the transgender community. He was assigned female at birth, but in 2015, Jamie began transitioning to the gender he identified with.

He has been undergoing testosterone treatment for several years to support this process and his transition has been both tough and inspiring, shedding light on the challenges that many transgender people face.

”When I came out, people refused to believe I was a man because of how “feminine” I presented for 18 years,” he says.

Back in 2018, Jamie Wilson was making waves as a rising folk-pop musician and fresh-faced model, gracing the latest cover of Candy magazine and starring in ads for the bold men’s underwear brand 2(x)ist.

But beyond his work in music and fashion, he’s also an outspoken advocate for the LGBTQ+ community. As a proud transgender man, Jamie uses his platform to connect with hundreds of thousands of followers on Facebook and Instagram, openly sharing his journey and experiences.

“Music has the power to bring people outside of the community into the community,” he told New York Times, emphasizing how his art serves as a bridge for understanding and inclusion.

About a year into his transition, Jamie Wilson took to Facebook to share before-and-after photos—some shirtless—that quickly went viral, amassing an astonishing 13 million views. The post caught the attention of celebrities, with actress Ruby Rose remarking that he was “looking like a young Channing Tatum,” while rapper Lil Wayne simply commented, “Wow.”

”That’s when it really picked up,” Wilson said.

After two years of dedication and hard work, Jamie has fully transformed into the man he has always been at heart.

Despite his growing fame, Jamie, who lives in New York City, noticed a surprising shift in his career. “People didn’t start listening to my music until after my transition, which is funny because I had to really practice to regain my singing voice since my vocal cords had changed so drastically,” he reflected.

Having gone through gender-affirming procedures himself, he knows firsthand how emotional and physically demanding the process can be. His story is relatable to so many and highlights how important it is to stay strong, be confident, and embrace who you really are.

In 2020, Jamie shared that he is no longer in contact with most of his family members.

”You don’t have to agree with everything your child does, but at the end of the day, you have to love your child, because they are going to be who they are anyway,” he said.

Despite the challenges he’s faced and being cut off from his family, Jamie feels a strong sense of responsibility to continue sharing his experiences as a trans man.

”I feel like definitely right now it’s important. I hope 10 years from now it’s not an issue for people like it is right now. Trans rights are big right now. It’s something I won’t stop talking about until I have all the rights I should have,” Jame says.

Even with progress in recent years, trans folks still deal with big challenges. Whether it’s facing judgment from society or struggling to fully accept themselves, the road isn’t always easy.

Ironically, he has been accused of being “too masculine” and “trying too hard to fit the mold of a cisgender male.”

While Jamie Wilson has received immense support for his trans identity, he’s also faced his share of critics, both online and in real life. “I had people tell me I can’t be transgender because I was such a pretty girl or because I didn’t show the signs,” he shared.

Despite the negativity, he remains determined to be a source of inspiration. His response on Instagram, where he now has over 300,000 followers, delivered a powerful message:

“Not everyone has to show ‘signs’ to be transgender. You don’t need to pass any tests to prove you’re trans…”

With before and after transition photos highlighting his transformation, he continued:

“And you sure as hell don’t need ANYONE’S approval but your own.”

Jamie’s female-to-male transition photos show him smiling with short hair, dressed in casual clothing, and he added:

“This life is about finding yourself and becoming YOU. No one’s journey is the same…”

Jamie’s story isn’t just about his transformation — it’s also a guide for others who are navigating the ups and downs of transitioning.

By sharing his personal journey through photos and experiences, Jamie does more than just inspire—he creates a sense of community and belonging.

His message is simple but powerful: everyone deserves to be seen, accepted, and celebrated for who they are.