I tapped the steering wheel, trying to shake the weight on my chest, when I spotted a disheveled woman digging through a trash can. I slowed down, drawn in by her grim determination.
She looked fragile yet fierce, fighting for survival. Without thinking, I pulled over, rolled down my window, and asked, “Do you need help?”
Her response was sharp but tired: “You offering?”
“I just saw you there,” I admitted, stepping out. “It didn’t seem right.”
“What’s not right is life,” she scoffed, crossing her arms. “You don’t strike me as someone who knows much about that.”
“Maybe not,” I replied, then asked if she had a place to stay.
“No,” she said, and I felt compelled to offer my garage as a temporary home. To my surprise, she accepted, albeit reluctantly.
Over the next few days, we shared meals and conversations. Lexi’s sharp wit broke through my loneliness, but I could sense her hidden pain.
One afternoon, I barged into the garage and froze. There, sprawled across the floor, were grotesque paintings of me—chains, blood, a casket. Nausea hit me.
That night, I confronted her. “What are those paintings?”
Her face went pale. “I didn’t mean for you to see them. I was just… angry.”
“So you painted me as a monster?” I demanded.
She nodded, shame in her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
I struggled to forgive her. “I think it’s time for you to go.”
The next morning, I helped her pack and drove her to a shelter, giving her some money. Weeks passed, and I felt the loss of our connection.
Then, a package arrived—another painting. This one was serene, capturing a peace I hadn’t known. Inside was a note with Lexi’s name and number.
My heart raced as I called her. “I got your painting… it’s beautiful.”
“Thank you. I didn’t know if you’d like it,” she replied.
“You didn’t owe me anything,” I said, reflecting on my own unfairness.
“I’m sorry for what I painted,” she admitted. “You were just… there.”
“I forgave you the moment I saw that painting. Maybe we could start over.”
“I’d like that,” she said, a smile evident in her voice.
We made plans to meet again, and I felt a flicker of hope for what could be.
Meg Foster was the movie star whose sky blue eyes drove people wild – sit down before seeing her today, 76
That we are all destined to grow old and grey is an immutable fact of life (for now, at least, who knows what the future holds with regards to technology and science).
It doesn’t matter how much money we have, how strictly we control our diet or exercise, how much sleep we get, or what we do for a living… sure, we might age differently, but in the end we’re all headed in the same direction. It’s basic biology, and not something we can do too much about.
Which is why it’s somewhat amusing that we can still be shocked when we see the hand of Father Time working its magic. Perhaps you haven’t seen someone for years, only to be taken back by how much they’ve aged? Or you spot an old movie star you remember from your childhood, only now their hair is white, their youthful exuberance gone.
It’s an interesting thing actually, the way celebrities age. Their appearances change as they get older – just as with any human being – only their path to old age is documented for the whole world to see. Be it from film to film, red carpet to red carpet, they leave a trail one can literally follow with their finger.
Now, time for today’s not-so-subtle segway: who remembers Meg Foster?
Of course you do! With her captivating, icy blue eyes, piercing gaze and raw beauty, how could you not? The American actress made her acting debut alongside Michael Douglas in Adam at 6am (1970), going on to star in numerous projects including The Six Million Dollar Man, Bonanza, The Twilight Zone and Murder, She Wrote.
Once a burgeoning talent and in-demand actress, Foster’s star has steadily shrunk from the limelight in the last two decades. These days she looks virtually unrecognizable from the woman who Mademoiselle magazine said had “the eyes of 1979”.
I mean, that’s hardly a surprise given that she’s now 76 years old, but it appears that people on the internet simply can’t grasp just how much she’s changed. We’ll be honest, some of the comments to be found are borderline cruel, while others simply reinforce the idea that the actress looks nothing like she did.
That said, we think that her decision to age naturally – without resorting to the plastic surgery that has become so commonplace in the film and TV industry – should be commended, not lambasted.
In any case, Foster continues to work within film and TV, as well as reportedly breeding horses from a large range which she owns by herself.
Do you remember Meg Foster? What do you think to how she looks now? Let us know in the comments.
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