Brigitte Bardot is perhaps one of the most well-known names in the world. She started her career as a model in the 1950s, and today she works as an activist. The 88-year-old former actress and model resides in the South of France.
According to recent reports, emergency services rushed to her home to aid her…
Birgitte Bardot first gained notoriety as an actress and a model beginning in 1952. She soon became an icon and turned into one of the most iconic pop culture sex symbols of the ’50s and ’60s.
She was known for playing roles that showcased sexually liberated women who lived on the wild side.
The actress, however, retired from acting and modeling in 1973 and focused her energies instead on becoming an activist. Her main area of activism is animal protection and welfare. She, however, came under fire for racist remarks and homophobic comments she made in her own autobiography.
The 88-year-old French film icon is married to husband Bernard d’Ormale. It was her husband d’Ormale who spoke to the media and confirmed the health scare Bardot suffered.
“It was around 9 a.m. when Brigitte had trouble breathing,” d’Ormale said. “It was harder than usual but she didn’t lose consciousness. Let’s call it a moment of respiratory distraction.”
He explained, “The firefighters arrived, gave her oxygen to breathe and stayed for a moment to watch her.” He told the outlet the firefighters arrival was slightly delayed because they had initially went to the wrong address before arriving at the correct one.
The reason behind her breathing issues according to d’Ormale was the heat. He said, “Like all people of a certain age, she can no longer bear the heat.”
“It happens at 88, she must not make unnecessary efforts,” he continued. “Her pulse is fine, her heart too and her blood pressure is good, but things remain fragile.”
The actress apparently has been complaining of the heat in their home and that the airconditioning is not enough. Her husband said their air conditioning “is not very strong at home.”
We are glad to know that Brigette Bardot is doing well. Share this piece with other fans of the former actress so they can know she is doing better as well.
My Stepdaughter Insisted I Reassign All Her Deceased Father’s Possessions into Her Name – I Complied, Yet She Was Unpleased
The emptiness of George’s departure permeates their residence, his presence enduring in the shirt Mariana grips nightly. However, it wasn’t his passing that devastated her… it was her stepdaughter Susan’s insistence on inheriting his wealth. When she reluctantly agreed, an unexpected twist left Susan enraged and Mariana strangely content.
Progressing past the death of a dear one is always challenging. At times, I still sense my husband George’s voice echoing in my mind. I awaken holding his cherished shirt, his fragrance still clinging to the material. Yet, as I mourned him, my stepdaughter’s actions… they utterly broke me…
I am Mariana, aged 57, wed to the kindest man, George, for 25 years. He had a daughter, Susan, aged 34, from an earlier marriage.
Our bond with Susan was once good. She addressed me as “Mom” and filled the gap in my heart from not bearing my own children. I never viewed her as “another’s” child. I cherished her as my own daughter, truly.
When Susan wed her chosen partner, George and I were thrilled. But then, everything deteriorated when George received a terminal cancer diagnosis.
Susan’s visits reduced from weekly to monthly, then ceased entirely. She seldom visited her father, occasionally phoning to inquire about his health.
One day, she posed a question that tore me apart. “How long does he have left?”
Clutching the phone tightly, my voice shook. “Susan, your father isn’t an item with an expiration date.”
“I just need to know, Mom. I’m swamped, you know that… I can’t come by often,” she responded.
“Swamped?” I repeated, my tone filled with disbelief. “Too swamped to visit your dying father?”
She exhaled deeply. “Look, I’ll attempt to come soon, okay?”
But that “soon” never materialized.
Then, the dreaded day arrived. The hospital informed me that George had passed away peacefully.
I was devastated, barely able to stand as the reality sank in. My beloved George, gone.
Shockingly, Susan didn’t attend his funeral. When I called her, she promptly excused herself.
“I’m expecting, Mom,” she stated, her tone strangely indifferent. “The doctors advised against lengthy travel due to some medical concerns.”
I swallowed hard, holding back tears. “But Susan, it’s your father’s funeral. Don’t you wish to bid him farewell one last time?”
“I can’t jeopardize my baby’s health,” she curtly replied. “You understand, right?”
I didn’t, not truly, but I nodded silently, forgetting she couldn’t see me. “Of course, dear. Take care.”
As I sat near my husband’s coffin, I couldn’t dismiss the notion that our relationship had irrevocably changed.
Six months post-George’s death, I was startled by a loud knock at my door. Opening it, I saw Susan and her husband Doug, along with a severe-looking man in a suit.
Susan entered without greeting. “Mom, we need your signature on some documents.”
Baffled, I blinked. “Which documents?”
Doug handed me a stack of papers, including a blank sheet. “Just sign these. They’re for transferring all the properties into our names.”
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