Anthony claims that despite making significant changes, including removing his upper lip earlier this year, he feels he has only achieved 34 percent of his transformation goals.
For over a decade, Anthony has been engaging in extreme body modifications and taking risks, such as getting eyeball tattoos that temporarily compromise his vision. His quest for an extraordinary look led him to have both ears removed and his tongue surgically split.
To achieve his desired changes, Anthony has traveled the world and undergone medical procedures in countries where such changes are prohibited in France. Last year, he traveled to Spain to have his nose surgically removed. His face now has structured, defined lines, thanks to dermal implants that accentuate his cheekbones.
With a remarkable Instagram following of 718,000 under the pseudonym Black Alien Project, Anthony continues to captivate audiences with his tireless efforts to transform his appearance.
In a recent post, Anthony showed off his latest modification, a surgically altered “alien claw” with a fresh scar. He captioned the image, “Cultivating my inner peace.” His bold changes often elicit mixed reactions; some admire his bravery, others are skeptical.
One commenter described Anthony’s transformation as both disturbing and fascinating, expressing admiration despite not being able to take such a path himself. Another congratulated him on his progress, calling it “incredibly wonderful.”
Conversely, some critics oppose it, arguing that his modifications show a lack of respect for those who have lost limbs and are looking for ways to adapt.
Despite the mixed feedback, Anthony remains committed to his transformation journey, a passion he has had since his youth. In a 2017 interview with French newspaper Midi Libre, he shared: “During my time as a security guard, I realized that I was not living the life I wanted. At 24, I made the brave decision to leave everything behind and travel to Australia. It has become second nature for me to constantly keep an eye on and plan my future steps.”
I Allowed a Homeless Woman to Stay in My Garage—One Day I Walked in Unannounced and Was Shocked by What I Saw
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.
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