Do you have these two holes in your back? This means you are special! Here’s why

 Do you have these two holes in your back? This means you are special! Here’s why

Some people have holes in their chins, while others have these two sexy holes in their backs. Here is what they say and what they are called differently.

Holes are related to body structure and bone structure.

Our hamstrings have two tips turned towards the spine in the internal direction, as seen in the picture and below it, meanwhile, due to their position, these holes are created immediately above them, Telegrafi reports.

For a long time it has been considered that venereal holes, namely Apollonian, are genetically inherited, however, now the prevailing opinion is that with weight loss and certain exercises they can appear even if you don’t have them naturally.

The exercises for the lower back muscles after a while should define the venereal holes, namely the Apollonian holes in your back as well.

She Chose Herself: A Woman’s Courageous Step Toward Independence After 20 Years of Marriage

 Molly’s decision to divorce her husband after overhearing a conversation with his mother marks a turning point in her life. This story of betrayal, self-discovery, and strength will leave you inspired.

Molly had spent years in a marriage that felt more like a routine than a relationship. The clock had ticked steadily for twenty years, with each day blending into the next, much like the long, tiring shifts at the hospital where she worked. Her husband, Andrew, had been her constant companion, yet somewhere along the way, their connection had dulled, replaced by monotony. Their marriage had become an unspoken habit—like the morning coffee that she always drank without thinking.

The phone rang early one morning, interrupting the calm of the summer house where Molly had been sitting on the veranda. She had spent the morning sorting herbs for drying, the silence offering her a rare moment of peace. When she saw the name “Andrew” on the screen, she answered, expecting the usual brief, impersonal conversation.

“Marin, I’m not coming today; I’ve got a mountain of work,” Andrew’s voice sounded distant and distracted. “Don’t be bored over there, there’s everything in the fridge. Are you coming back to the city tomorrow?”

Molly had hoped for a more personal connection, but his words left her feeling like an afterthought. “I wanted to stay another day. It’s so peaceful here,” she replied, trying to hide the disappointment in her voice.

“Well, as you wish. Then we’ll see each other the day after tomorrow,” Andrew responded, the call ending just as quickly as it had begun.

As the words echoed in her mind, Molly couldn’t help but ask herself: When did love become something so mechanical? When did their relationship turn into nothing more than a schedule?

That evening, as the sun set and the world quieted down, Molly was busy making compote in the kitchen when she heard the sound of an approaching car. A flicker of hope passed through her, but as she glanced out the window, her heart sank. It was Andrew, but he wasn’t alone. He was helping his mother, Gwen Thompson, out of the car.

Molly instinctively retreated to the back room. Years of being passive, of not confronting uncomfortable situations, took over her instinct to avoid conflict. But a sense of unease grew within her. Why had they come if she wasn’t even supposed to be here? What did it mean that Andrew didn’t even tell her they were coming?

She quietly moved closer to the open veranda, where she could hear their conversation.

“Andrew, why don’t you open the windows in the house? It must be stuffy in there,” Gwen ’s voice rang out, dismissive as always. “It’s good that your wife didn’t come. At least we can sit down calmly and have some tea.”

Andrew’s reply was weary, almost resigned. “Mom, what are you starting with now? Molly is a decent woman.”

“Decent?” Gwen ’s voice turned icy. “I’ve watched her for twenty years, and I still don’t understand—how do you live with her? No education, no hobbies, just tending to that little garden of hers and working at the district hospital.”

Molly’s hands trembled as she clenched her fists. Had she really sacrificed her dreams for this life? For a husband who barely acknowledged her worth, and a mother-in-law who belittled her every chance she got?

“Mom, let’s drop it,” Andrew muttered, the sound of glass clinking signaling that he was setting down some cups.

“No,” Gwen insisted. “The way you’ve lived with that fool for convenience—that’s exactly how things will continue. You got your house, your kids, and you thought someone respectable would marry you?”

Molly’s heart pounded as she heard those words. “For convenience.” She felt her entire world shift as the weight of that phrase settled deep within her. Twenty years of sacrifices, all for nothing but “convenience.”

As the conversation continued, Molly felt the sting of betrayal cut deeper. Andrew had been talking to his mother about ending their marriage, his voice empty, like a man who had already given up. “I’ve been thinking for a long time about how to wrap all of this up,” he said, his words devoid of any emotion. “It’s just that I’m short on money—I don’t want to split anything with her.”

Molly’s che$t tightened, and the anger she had long suppressed finally erupted. She didn’t know how long she had been standing there, but she knew one thing—everything had changed.

The next day, as she left the summer house in the morning, her thoughts were racing. She had heard enough. Her life, her marriage, her sacrifices—everything had been a lie. She knew what she had to do. She called a lawyer, determined to take control of her life.

The lawyer listened patiently as Molly explained her situation, providing him with all the evidence she had—bank statements, receipts, documents proving her contributions to their home and their life together. Molly had never felt more certain about anything in her life. “I deserve better,” she whispered to herself as the lawyer assured her that she had a strong case.

Back at home, Molly’s demeanor had changed. When Andrew came home the next day, he was greeted not with the usual warmth but with a calm and unyielding presence. He was taken aback by her distance, her newfound strength. “Where have you been?” he asked, his voice laced with suspicion.

“I had an interview,” Molly replied, her voice steady. “At a private clinic. I’ve decided to change my career.”

Andrew’s disbelief was palpable. “A clinic? You’ve worked at the district clinic for twenty years. Why now?”

Molly looked him directly in the eyes. “I realized that I deserve more. I deserve to live a life where I am respected.”

She didn’t tell him about the lawyer, the divorce papers she was preparing, or the plans she had for the future. She didn’t need to. He would find out soon enough.

The tension between them grew as Molly took steps to reclaim her life. Every conversation, every gesture, was now tinged with the awareness that their marriage was over. When Andrew suggested they visit his mother, Molly simply replied, “I think I’ll skip that visit. I have other plans for the weekend.”

Andrew was taken aback, unable to comprehend what was happening. “Personal plans?” he scoffed. “Since when do you have personal plans?”

Molly’s response was simple but powerful. “Ever since I decided I have a right to them.”

The weeks that followed were filled with paperwork, legal meetings, and emotional strain. But for the first time in years, Molly felt like she was in control of her own future. She had finally found the courage to say “no” and to walk away from a marriage that had been suffocating her for far too long.

When the day came for her to file for divorce, she felt a strange sense of relief. She wasn’t just leaving Andrew; she was leaving behind a life that had never truly belonged to her. And in that moment, Molly realized that the hardest part wasn’t leaving—it was finding the strength to say “no” when it mattered most.

As she walked away from her old life, Molly stepped into a new world, one where she could finally breathe. She knew that her journey was just beginning, but she was no longer afraid. She had taken the first step toward reclaiming her life, and nothing would hold her back.

Carrie Underwood Delivers Soul-Stirring “How Great Thou Art” on Idol Easter Special, Channeling the Power of Her My Savior Concert at the Historic Ryman Auditorium

 Carrie Underwood Has Long Been Open About Her Faith

When American Idol revealed it would be airing a faith-centered Easter special on Sunday, April 20, fans immediately anticipated a moving performance from judge Carrie Underwood.

Faith has always been at the core of Underwood’s musical journey. Her debut single, “Jesus, Take the Wheel,” introduced the world to her beliefs, and she later shared her spiritual side again in “Something in the Water,” which touches on themes of baptism and salvation.

Over the years, she’s lent her powerful voice to beloved hymns like “Softly and Tenderly” and “How Great Thou Art.” Both of these were eventually featured on her 2021 gospel record, My Savior.

That album also includes other spiritual classics such as “Nothing but the Blood of Jesus,” “The Old Rugged Cross,” and “Amazing Grace,” among others.

Upon release, My Savior soared to the top of both the Billboard Top Country Albums chart and the Top Christian Albums chart. It later earned Underwood a Grammy Award for Best Roots Gospel Album in 2022.

To celebrate the album, Underwood performed all 13 tracks during a special Easter Sunday livestream in 2021, filmed at the iconic Ryman Auditorium in Nashville.

Beyond her music, Underwood frequently speaks about her faith—whether in interviews, acceptance speeches, online posts, or television appearances.

This season on American Idol, during Hollywood Week, she was visibly emotional after contestants Breanna Nix and IAMKNOWN performed “Gratitude” by Christian artist Brandon Lake. Tearing up, Underwood reflected on the difficulty of maintaining one’s faith in the entertainment industry:

“Ladies … I wanna tell you how difficult it is to come into the entertainment industry and bring your faith with you. It is a brave thing to do because there are a lot of outside forces that are gonna tell you not to do that. I wanna tell you that I’m proud of you guys.”

Carrie Underwood Brings the House Down During Idol’s Easter Special

Underwood took the stage once more during American Idol’s Easter Sunday 2025 “Songs of Faith” special—a three-hour celebration featuring performances from the Top 20 contestants, the judges, guest artists, and artist-in-residence Jelly Roll.

Dressed in a dazzling gown, Underwood delivered a show-stopping rendition of a hymn she’s become known for…”How Great Thou Art.” For those familiar with her past performances, the song is a breathtaking showcase of her vocal strength—and she did not disappoint as she closed the show with it.

As she finished, host Ryan Seacrest could barely find the words:

“I have no words after that!”

The audience erupted in applause, and once again, Underwood’s stirring voice brought chills and tears.

You can watch Carrie Underwood’s moving performance of “How Great Thou Art” from the American Idol Easter special in the video below. It’s a moment that continues to inspire and uplift every time it’s heard.

Karoline Leavitt slammed over tiny detail as she posts photo on Instagram

 Karoline Leavitt, the White House Press Secretary, has found herself at the center of a storm yet again — but this time, it wasn’t her words from the podium alone that sparked the uproar. It was a photo, a designer handbag, and a moment of apparent contradiction that lit up the internet and reignited debate about public image, messaging, and the blurred line between personal style and political symbolism.

Since returning to her role in the Trump administration shortly after giving birth, Leavitt has emerged as one of the most prominent voices in Washington. At just 27, she has become a key face of President Donald Trump’s second term, known for her unflinching rhetoric and combative approach with the press. Her ability to stand toe-to-toe with reporters — often echoing Trump’s unapologetic tone — has won praise from conservative circles while drawing ire from critics across the political aisle.

The incident that triggered this latest round of attention unfolded at a press briefing in late March, when Leavitt responded to controversial remarks made by French politician Raphaël Glucksmann, who suggested the U.S. no longer embodied the values symbolized by the Statue of Liberty. Leavitt’s answer was swift and sharp. “Absolutely not,” she said regarding any notion of returning the statue, adding pointedly, “It’s only because of the United States of America that the French are not speaking German right now.”

The comment, delivered with cool confidence, set off a firestorm online. While supporters saw it as a powerful reminder of American sacrifice in World War II, others found it dismissive, inflammatory, and deeply offensive to a key U.S. ally. Former U.S. Ambassador to Russia Michael McFaul called it “shocking” and “insulting,” questioning whether Leavitt had acted on her own or under direction. He further reminded her that without France, the United States might never have won independence — a reference to French support during the American Revolutionary War.

Just as the criticism began to settle, Leavitt herself reignited the conversation — unintentionally — with an Instagram post. In the photo, she’s smiling, composed, stylish… and holding a Louis Vuitton Neverfull MM tote. The classic French luxury accessory — with a price tag of over $2,000 — immediately raised eyebrows, considering the recent friction with France.

Commenters were quick to notice the irony. “Why carry a Louis Vuitton if you’re slamming France?” one user asked. Others were even more direct, calling it hypocritical or tone-deaf. And yet, Leavitt made no mention of the bag or the backlash. She simply posted the photo and moved on.

Instead of responding to the noise, she shifted the spotlight to her personal life. Over the weekend, her feed turned to her son, Niko. She shared moments from their kitchen, where they baked muffins together, and another touching scene of Niko being pushed in a stroller by his great-grandmother. The posts were soft, warm, and unmistakably maternal — a sharp contrast to the sharp-edged figure seen at the press podium just days earlier.

This ability to compartmentalize — to be fierce in the White House briefing room and gentle at home — may be part of what fascinates (and frustrates) so many about Karoline Leavitt. Her public persona is calculated, consistent, and aligned with Trump’s aggressive tone. But her private world, at least as glimpsed through social media, paints a different picture.

In a recent interview with the Christian Broadcasting Network, she spoke openly about the balancing act between her career and motherhood. “I spend every second that I possibly can with my son when I’m home,” she said, adding that it’s not always easy. “There is a sense of guilt,” she admitted, “and I think every working mother understands that.”

As the news cycle continues to spin, the debate over Leavitt’s Louis Vuitton tote — and what it represents — hasn’t slowed down. Was it just a fashion choice, or an unintentional contradiction? Does a handbag really matter in the grand scheme of international diplomacy? Or is this a case study in how optics can amplify or undermine a political message?

Whatever the answer, Karoline Leavitt doesn’t appear fazed. She has shown little interest in apologizing, backtracking, or softening her tone. Whether in designer heels or behind the podium, she’s pressing forward — blending bold statements with quiet snapshots of her home life.

And maybe that’s the paradox: a new generation of political figures who defy easy categorization, and who force the public to decide — are they being authentic, calculated, or a bit of both?

What do you think — is Karoline Leavitt’s Louis Vuitton moment a harmless flex or a tone-deaf misstep? Let us know your take in the comments.

Retirement Brings Forth Long-Buried Loneliness

 I’m 60. And for the first time in my life, I feel like I don’t exist anymore—not for my ex-husband, my children, my grandchildren, or even the world. I’m still here, of course. I breathe. I go to the chemist’s, buy bread, sweep the little garden patch under my window. But inside, there’s a hollowness, growing heavier with each morning when there’s no job to rush to. When no one calls just to ask, *Mum, how are you?*

I live alone. Have done for years. My children are grown, with families of their own, scattered across the country—my daughter in Brighton, my son in Manchester. My grandkids are getting older, and I barely know them. I don’t see them off to school, don’t knit them jumpers, don’t tell them bedtime stories. Not once have they invited me to visit. Not once.

I asked my daughter once:

*Why don’t you want me to come? I could help with the kids…*

*Mum, you know how it is… My husband doesn’t like you. You’re always interfering, and your way of talking—*, she answered.

I fell silent. Hurt, shame, resentment twisted inside me. I wasn’t forcing my way in—I just wanted to be near them. And the answer was: *He doesn’t like you.* Not the grandkids, not my children. I’ve been erased. Even my ex-husband, who lives in a village nearby, can’t find time to meet. Once a year, a curt holiday text. Like he’s doing me

As I retired, I thought: *Finally, time for myself.* I’d take up knitting, go for morning walks, sign up for that painting course I’d always dreamed of. But instead of joy, dread moved in.

First came the strange spells—sudden dizziness, my heart racing, a fear of dying that gripped me out of nowhere. I went to doctors, had tests, ECGs, MRIs. All normal. One finally said:

*It’s all in your head. You need to talk to someone. You’re just lonely.*

That was worse than any diagnosis. As there’s no pill for loneliness.

At times, I go to the shop just to hear the cashier speak. Sometimes, I sit on the bench outside my flat, pretending to read, hoping someone might stop. But everyone’s in a hurry. Places to be, lives to live. And I’m just… here. Sitting. Breathing. Remembering.

What did I do wrong? Why did my family turn away? I raised them alone. Their father left early. I worked double shifts, cooked, ironed uniforms, stayed up nights when they were ill. No drinking, no running around—I gave them everything. And now? I’m nothing to them.

Maybe I was too strict. Maybe I controlled too much. But I wanted what was best for them—to grow up decent, responsible. I kept them from bad crowds, from ruining their lives. And in the end? I’m the one left behind.

I’m not asking for pity. Just answers. Am I really that terrible a mother? Or is this just how it is now—mortgages, schools, football clubs, and no room left for Mum?

People tell me: *Find a man. Join a dating site.* But I can’t. I don’t trust. Years alone have made me hard. I’ve no strength left to open up, to fall in love, to let a stranger into my home. My body isn’t what it was.

Working’s no escape anymore. At least at the office there was chatter, jokes. Now? Silence. So loud I leave the telly on, just to hear a voice.

Sometimes I ask myself: if I just vanished, would anyone notice? Not my kids, not my ex, not the neighbour from the third floor. The thought chokes me with tears.

But then I get up. Make tea. Tell myself: *Maybe tomorrow. Maybe someone will remember. Call. Text.* Maybe I still matter to someone.

As long as hope’s alive, so am I.

My MIL Tried to Ru in My Life, but a Stranger’s Secret Changed Everything

 When I stopped to buy a knitted bunny from the old woman on the corner, I had no idea how it would disrupt my mother-in-law Eloise’s plans. That simple act set off a chain of events, unearthing secrets Eloise had tried so hard to bury. It was the moment

Every day was a struggle since my husband passed away. I was balancing a demanding job while trying to raise my five-year-old daughter, Maisie, alone. It felt like I was constantly failing.

My parents were long gone, leaving me without anyone to lean on. The only family left was my MIL, Eloise, who had moved in to “help.” But her version of help felt more like a curse.

“Is this really what you’re feeding Maisie for breakfast?” Eloise’s voice was a sharp knife cutting through the morning silence.

She was staring at the bowl of cereal in front of Maisie.

“It’s quick, and it’s what we have,” I muttered, ignoring Eloise’s glare.

“Quick isn’t good enough,” Eloise snapped.

“My son wanted more for his daughter. You need to take better care of her, Ophelia. This house is a mess!”

I felt her words sting like icy darts. She never helped, never offered to make breakfast or get Maisie ready. It was all criticism and nothing more.

I grabbed Maisie’s backpack, holding back the retort I wanted to scream.

“Let’s go, sweetie.”

We hurried out the door, Eloise’s voice trailing after us with a fresh round of complaints about the state of the house.

We passed the same corner we did every day. An elderly woman sat there, surrounded by a small table filled with knitted scarves, mittens, and tiny animals. Her name was Edna.

Every morning, we chatted a bit, but today… Maisie tugged on my hand, her eyes fixed on a knitted bunny sitting among the items.

“Mommy, can we look?”

I hesitated. We were running late, and I didn’t know if I had the emotional energy for anything more that day. But the way Maisie looked at that bunny made me stop.

“Alright, honey.”

Edna looked up from her knitting as we approached. She smiled at Maisie.

“Morning, sweetheart,” she said. “You like the bunny, don’t you?”

Maisie nodded.

“How much for the bunny?” I asked.

“For her?” Edna looked at Maisie and then back at me. “It’s a gift,” she said with a soft smile, picking up the bunny and handing it to Maisie.

“Thank you,” Maisie whispered, holding her bunny close.

I looked at Edna, not sure what to say. She seemed to notice the strain on my face.

“Tough morning?” she asked gently.

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. “You could say that.”

Edna nodded, her hands busy with her knitting ropes.

“You’re stronger than you think. You have to be, especially for her.”

Her words settled over me like a warm blanket. Before I knew it, the words spilled out.

“Do you… do you have anywhere to stay?”

“No,” she said slowly. “I lost my home a while back. Got some temporary shelter. Been selling these to get by.”

She gestured to the knitted items.

I hesitated for a split second. That woman, with her calm presence and kind eyes, was exactly the warmth we needed.

“Why don’t you stay with us?” I blurted out before I could second-guess myself. “I need help with Maisie, and you need a place to stay. It… it makes sense.”

Edna’s eyes widened, knitting needles pausing mid-stitch.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to impose.”

“Exactly. Meet us here this evening. I’ll take you home.”

A small, surprised smile tugged at the corners of Edna’s mouth.

“Alright. I’ll be here.”

I glanced at my watch.

“Come on, Maisie, we need to hurry.”

Maisie clutched her bunny and looked back at Edna, waving happily.

As we rushed toward the preschool, a thousand thoughts swirled in my mind. That was the most impulsive decision I had ever made. But for the first time in a long time, it felt right.

It was time to disappoint Eloise for real.

Maisie and Edna were inseparable, their afternoons filled with laughter as they knitted tiny animals together. But Eloise, watching from the sidelines, couldn’t stand being left out. Desperate for Maisie’s affection, she showered her with gifts, but the child’s heart remained with Edna.

One morning, everything unraveled. A lawsuit, a surprise visit from Child Protective Services, and a shocking confession turned Ophelia’s world upside down. Edna wasn’t just a kind presence in their lives—she was Ophelia’s long-lost mother, forced to give her up decades ago.

As Ophelia grappled with the truth, she lost her job and faced a bitter legal battle with Eloise. But with Edna by her side, she found strength. They left the toxic past behind, moving to a peaceful cottage where Edna’s artistry brought unexpected fortune.

With new hope and a skilled lawyer, they fought back—and won. Freedom, love, and a future filled with laughter awaited them, proving that sometimes, family is rediscovered in the most unexpected ways.

My Family Left Grandpa at the Hotel to Avoid Paying — They Didn’t Realize I Was the Wrong Grandson to Mess With

 As the front doors slid open and my feet touched the tile, I spotted him—my grandfather—standing behind the counter.

His shoulders drooped, and his hands trembled slightly as he held a thick sheet of paper.

Just two months before, he had retired at 74, after spending 52 years working as a machinist. He’d never missed a day unless he was genuinely sick—and even then, he still called in to check on things.

Grandpa was the quiet, dependable type. Every birthday, he’d show up with a card and some money inside. He never missed one. Always giving. Never asking for anything in return.

So when my aunt, his daughter, suggested we do something meaningful for his birthday, my cousin Ashley jumped at the chance. Everyone agreed. The plan? A weeklong, all-inclusive beach resort trip. Ashley handled all the arrangements—booked five rooms, even reserved a suite with a private balcony just for Grandpa.

For illustrative purposes only.

He was told not to worry about the cost.

So he packed his one suitcase, brought along his old fishing hat, and wore sandals for the first time in a decade. Off they went.

I couldn’t join until the final day—work obligations kept me in the city—but I booked a one-way ticket to help Grandpa get home. He hated airports. Said they made him feel disoriented.

When I arrived, the sun was out, and palm trees swayed in the breeze.

I walked into the hotel smiling.

That smile disappeared fast.

Grandpa stood alone. His suitcase was packed. The bill was in his hands. Everyone else was gone.

“They said everything was paid for,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

He nodded. “That’s what I believed too. But this morning, they all got ready, said checkout was noon, and left for the airport.”

For illustrative purposes only.

“I didn’t want to cause any trouble,” he added. “What matters is… they had a good time.”

I looked at him, then down at that bill. My fists clenched.

“I’ll be right back,” I said.

I stepped outside and pulled out my phone. I called Ashley. She answered on the second ring.

My voice was calm but cold. “Why did you leave Grandpa with a $12,000 bill?”

She hesitated, then laughed.

“We figured he could cover it,” she said casually. “He’s retired. Doesn’t support the family anymore. It was like… a thank-you trip. From him to us.”

“You figured?” I said, my voice tightening. “You figured it was fine to stick a seventy-four-year-old man with a $12,000 bill without asking?”

I stared at the road in front of the hotel, phone clenched in my hand, while laughter drifted over from the pool.

“Let me be clear,” I said flatly. “He’s not the one who looks foolish. You are.”

For illustrative purposes only.

Inside, I could still hear Grandpa trying to explain things at the front desk, still apologizing for something he didn’t cause.

I went back in and paid the entire bill myself. The manager printed the receipt, and I asked for a detailed breakdown by room. She promised to email it within the hour.

That night, I called an old college friend who’s now a lawyer. Sharp, meticulous.

By morning, we had:

A full itemized invoice, with each relative’s charges clearly outlined.

Security footage from the lobby shows them checking out, no goodbyes, no hesitation.

Written confirmation from staff that Grandpa had been left behind and told he was responsible for the charges.

We drafted formal letters:

“You are responsible for the charges listed below. Payment is expected within 14 days. If not received, I will pursue reimbursement in small claims court for fraud, financial abuse of a senior, and abandonment.”

For illustrative purposes only.

Each envelope contained the invoice with their charges highlighted in yellow.

Three days later, Ashley paid in full. No apology. Just a bank transfer with a sour-faced emoji in the memo. Her brother followed, then my aunt. One by one, the money came back.

In two weeks, all $12,000 had been reimbursed—except for Grandpa’s part.

I told the lawyer to leave that untouched.

Thanksgiving passed in silence. No calls. No invites.

Grandpa didn’t seem surprised.

For illustrative purposes only.

But he’s different now—lighter, happier. He laughs more freely. In a strange way, that awful trip gave him something priceless: closure. A clean slate. A brand-new chapter.