Jennifer Aniston turned out at the Emmy FYC event for her acclaimed drama, The Morning Show, this past weekend, and her look was undeniably captivating.
But while many agreed that the actress looked nothing short of stunning in a sleeveless, deep red dress, complemented by a matching ruby pendant, there were other question marks that arose regarding her appearance. Namely, what sort of plastic surgery (if any) she has undergone in recent months.
The 55-year-old plays TV anchor Alex Levy on The Morning Show, and the Apple TV+ series has proven wildly popular.
The show’s success – coupled, of course, with Aniston’s iconic past as a star on arguably the most successful sitcom of all time, Friends – has seen her reputation surge in recent years. Aniston has never really experienced a ‘dip’ in her career, but her stock has certainly enjoyed a revival since The Morning Show first aired.
Indeed, for anyone old enough to have lived through the era of Friends, it’s almost strange to accept that in five years time, Aniston will be 60 years old.
Time flies, as they say, and even the wealthiest celebrities can’t help but age in front of our faces.James Devaney/WireImage
Or can they?
Well, it’s certainly not something the majority of them readily embrace. Quite the opposite in fact: those with inexhaustible bank accounts tend to doggedly fight the aging process – at least in so far as appearance is concerned – undergoing operations and treatments in a bid to keep themselves looking as young as possible.
Incidentally, Jennifer Aniston was reportedly seen leaving a well-known plastic surgery clinic in Connecticut only a few months ago, prompting speculation that she had gone under the knife.
The clinic in question, The Retreat At Split Rock, is said to specialize in expert upper and lower face lifts, costing around $50,000 to $100,000 each, as well as brow and eye lifts that cost around $30,000 each.
It hasn’t been officially confirmed whether or not Aniston underwent treatment – let’s be honest, which celebrities are completely open and honest about this sort of stuff? – but there are clearly a fair few people online who suspect her look isn’t one hundred percent natural.
Following her appearance at the aforementioned Emmy FYC in New York on Sunday, certain individuals couldn’t resist themselves in pointing out that she looked different to usual.
“What has she done to her face?’’ one wrote in the comments section of a Daily Mail article.
A second added: “Jen is desperately trying to hold on to her old Friends looks. It can’t happen, she is much older now […]’’
“Her face looks weird because of all the work she has had done. She would have looked better with less,” opined a third.
My Husband Came Home Holding a Crying Baby
When Anna’s husband walked through the door holding a crying baby, her world turned upside down. Years later, the child she raised as her own is faced with a life-altering choice.
The scent of garlic and onions filled the small kitchen as I stirred a pot of soup. It had been a long day, and I was trying to distract myself by perfecting dinner. The house felt too quiet, as it often did.
A woman tasting her dish | Source: Pexels
My husband, David, was late coming home again, but I wasn’t surprised. His work as a delivery driver sometimes ran long. I wiped my hands on a dish towel, glancing at the clock.
“Seven-thirty,” I muttered. “What else is new?”
The garage door rumbled open, and I felt a flicker of relief. David was finally home. But then I heard something strange. A baby crying.
A crying baby | Source: Pexels
I frowned, drying my hands quickly. We didn’t have kids. We tried countless times until we found out I couldn’t get pregnant.
“David?” I called out, walking toward the front door.
When I stepped into the hallway, I froze. There he was, standing in the open doorway, holding a baby bundled in a soft, gray blanket.
A man holding a baby | Source: Freepik
“Hi,” he said, his voice shaky.
“David…” My eyes darted to the tiny face peeking out from the blanket. “What is that?”
“It’s a baby,” he replied, as if I couldn’t hear the piercing cries filling the room.
“I can see that,” I snapped, taking a step closer. “But why are you holding a baby?”
A shocked blonde woman | Source: Freepik
“I found him,” David said softly, his eyes wide. “On our doorstep.”
I cut him off. “Wait. Someone left a baby on our doorstep? Like some kind of… I don’t know… a movie or something?”
“I’m serious, Anna,” he said. “There was no note, nothing. Just him.”
A man holding a baby | Source: Pexels
The baby whimpered, and David adjusted the blanket again. “He was so cold, Anna. I couldn’t leave him out there.”
“Let me see him.” My voice came out more forceful than I intended.
David hesitated but finally stepped closer. He peeled back the edge of the blanket, revealing a tiny hand. My breath caught in my throat.
A shocked woman holding a newborn baby | Source: Midjourney
“Anna, are you okay?” David asked, watching my face.
I didn’t answer. My eyes were glued to the baby’s hand. A small, crescent-shaped birthmark rested near his thumb. My knees felt weak.
“Anna,” David repeated, more urgently. “What’s wrong?”
A close-up of a newborn baby’s head | Source: Pexels
“This can’t be,” I whispered.
Six months ago, my younger sister, Lily, had stormed out of my life. The fight was stupid, but the damage it caused wasn’t. She had called me judgmental; I had called her irresponsible. Neither of us had apologized.
Two women arguing | Source: Freepik
When Lily left, she vanished completely. No calls. No messages. Nothing. I’d convinced myself she didn’t care, though I never stopped thinking about her.
But now, staring at that birthmark, the truth hit me like a wave. This baby wasn’t just any baby.
“He’s Lily’s,” I said.
A serious woman holding a baby | Source: Midjourney
David frowned. “What?”
“The birthmark,” I said, pointing to the tiny crescent shape. “Lily has the same one on her wrist. It runs in the family.”
He looked at the baby’s hand, then back at me. “You’re saying this baby is your nephew?”
I nodded, my heart pounding.
A side shot of a woman holding a baby | Source: Midjourney
“But… I didn’t even know Lily was pregnant,” David said.
“Neither did I,” I whispered.
A mix of anger and sadness surged through me. “Why didn’t she tell me? Why would she leave her baby here?”
David looked as lost as I felt. “I don’t know, Anna. But what do we do now?”
A man holding a baby on his shoulder | Source: Pexels
For a moment, neither of us spoke. The baby’s soft whimpers filled the silence. I reached out and touched his tiny hand, feeling its warmth against my skin.
I shook my head. “We should call someone. The police, maybe. Or social services.”
David’s jaw tightened. “You really think they’ll take better care of him than us? He’s family, Anna.”
A serious man | Source: Pexels
I blinked back tears, feeling torn in two. For years, I’d dreamed of holding a baby in my arms. But this wasn’t how it was supposed to happen.
The baby let out a soft cry, and David rocked him gently. “Look at him, Anna,” he said. “He’s just a baby. He didn’t ask for any of this.”
A close-up shot of a father with his baby | Source: Freepik
I took a deep breath, my mind racing. “If we do this… if we keep him… it’s not just for tonight, David. It’s for life.”
He nodded. “I know.”
I looked at the baby again, his tiny face scrunched up in sleep. My heart ached, torn between fear and something else—a small, fragile hope.
A woman holding a baby | Source: Pexels
The years had flown by, but every moment with Ethan felt like a gift. At 13, he was tall for his age, with dark curls that always seemed unruly and a grin that could light up a room. He called me “Mom,” and David “Dad,” and I never got tired of hearing it.
Our home was filled with the sounds of his laughter, his endless questions, and the occasional thud of a basketball against the garage door. He was a good kid, full of heart.
A happy teenager | Source: Pexels
“Ethan!” I called from the kitchen one afternoon. “Don’t forget your lunchbox. You left it on the counter again!”
“Got it, Mom!” he shouted back, running through the house.
David appeared behind me, sipping his coffee. “Thirteen years,” he said, shaking his head. “Feels like yesterday when we found him.”
A couple talking over breakfast | Source: Pexels
I smiled. “He’s the best thing that ever happened to us.”
David leaned in to kiss my cheek, but before he could, the doorbell rang.
“I’ll get it!” Ethan hollered, already halfway to the door.
I wiped my hands on a towel, following him. When Ethan opened the door, I stopped in my tracks.
A shocked woman | Source: Freepik
Lily stood there, dressed in an elegant coat, her heels clicking on the porch as she shifted her weight. Her diamond earrings sparkled, and her face—though older—was as striking as I remembered.
“Anna,” she said, her voice soft but firm. “I need to talk to you.”
A rich woman | Source: Pexels
We sat in the living room, the air thick with tension. Ethan hovered nearby, watching the woman who was his birth mother with cautious curiosity.
“Ethan,” I said gently, “why don’t you give us a moment?”
He hesitated, then nodded. “Okay, Mom,” he said, disappearing upstairs.
A teenage boy by the stairs | Source: Midjourney
Lily’s eyes followed him, a mixture of longing and guilt flashing across her face.
“Why are you here, Lily?” I asked, my voice steady but cold.
She looked at me, her eyes filling with tears. “I made a mistake, Anna. A terrible mistake. I never should have left him. I wasn’t ready then, but I am now.”
A crying woman | Source: Pexels
I felt my chest tighten. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying I want my son back,” she said, her voice breaking. “I can give him everything now. A big house, the best schools, opportunities you can’t even imagine. He deserves that.”
Before I could say anything, Ethan appeared, his gaze locked on Lily.
An angry teenage boy | Source: Freepik
“You’re my birth mom, aren’t you?” he asked bluntly.
Lily blinked, startled by his question. “Yes,” she said slowly. “I am. I’ve come to take you home with me.”
Ethan didn’t flinch. “Home? This is my home.”
A woman talking to an angry teenage boy | Source: Midjourney
Her face softened, and she reached out as if to touch him. “I know this is sudden, but I can give you so much, Ethan. A better life. A bigger house, the best schools, anything you could want.”
Ethan took a step back, shaking his head. “You think I care about that? You don’t even know me.”
Lily’s hand dropped, her expression faltering. “Ethan, I—”
A close-up shot of a crying woman | Source: Pexels
“You don’t know my favorite food. You don’t know I’m terrible at spelling but great at math. You weren’t there when I broke my arm in third grade or when I got my first basketball trophy,” he said, his voice rising.
“Ethan,” I said softly, but he kept going.
A teenage boy signing a cross | Source: Freepik
“They were there,” he said, pointing at me and David. “They’ve been there every single day. You’re a stranger to me.”
Lily’s eyes glistened with tears. “I know I made mistakes, but I’m your mother, Ethan. That’s a bond that can’t be broken.”
He squared his shoulders, his voice firm. “Family isn’t about blood. It’s about love. And I already have a family. I’m not going anywhere.”
A boy with his arms crossed | Source: Midjourney
Lily’s shoulders sagged, the weight of his words sinking in. She turned to me, her expression a mixture of guilt and resignation.
“You’ve raised him well, Anna,” she said quietly. “I can see how much he loves you.”
I nodded, my voice steady but kind. “He’s happy, Lily. That’s all we’ve ever wanted for him.”
A serious woman | Source: Freepik
Lily gave Ethan one last, lingering look, then turned to leave. As the door closed behind her, Ethan let out a long breath.
“You okay?” I asked, pulling him into a hug.
“Yeah,” he said, his voice muffled against my shoulder. “I just… I don’t get how she could leave me like that.”
A woman hugging her son | Source: Midjourney
David joined us, placing a hand on Ethan’s back. “Sometimes people make mistakes they can’t undo. But you’ve got us, kiddo. Always.”
A week ago, God rewarded me with my own child. I found out that I was pregnant.
A happy woman a pregnancy test | Source: Pexels
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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