Oh Phoebe, my love, are you OK?
Those photos you posted from Noosa’s glorious Main Beach unsettled me. Coming after a lengthy absence from social media – your last post from November was a painfully raw video about how online bullying had made your life ‘smaller’ – I couldn’t help but notice changes etched on your face in those seemingly happy holiday snaps.
You see, I’d had the feeling for a while that something wasn’t right.
You were once on my feed every day, a successful influencer with close to 100,000 followers. Then you simply vanished.
I wondered if you’d chosen to step back – perhaps because your children with ex-husband Sam Burgess, Poppy and Billy, were getting older. Or maybe it was due to the relentless scrutiny that comes with that most Australian of labels: a former WAG.
I’d hoped that when you did eventually return to social media, you would offer a window into your glorious life in the Southern Highlands, far from the vanity and flightiness of Sydney’s east. And yet…
Phoebe Burgess (left, in 2016) shared a gallery of 10 holiday snaps earlier this week in which her lips looked twice as large as they were a decade ago
We got a gallery of 10 family photos in which your lips – which, frankly, appear to have doubled in size over the past decade – took centre stage.
And I fear I know what might be going on here.
I know sadness when it’s staring me in the face.
When I see a face and body that has been tweaked and shrunk to the point of being almost unrecognisable, it suggests to me a woman who may be quietly struggling.
Look, I don’t claim to know what’s happening in Phoebe’s private life – but I know my own, and I recognise the path she may be on.
I’ve been too skinny and not realised it.
I’ve filled up my lips to the point they no longer looked like my own.
I’ve taken pouty selfies that barely masked the hurt beneath. Those photos are on the internet forever – Google them, they’re not going anywhere.Â
Phoebe and her ex-husband Sam Burgess are pictured in October 2014 in Sydney
When I saw Phoebe’s photos – which naturally attracted unkind comments – my mind drifted to previous remarks suggesting she was struggling with life in the public eye.
I also noticed the timing: she was posting when her ex Sam was back in town.
Their split seven years ago was messy – very messy.
In the aftermath, Rabbitohs star Sam met hairdresser Lucy Graham and they went on to marry and have two children. They now live in the UK while Phoebe has custody of Sam’s eldest two children.
If I were in Phoebe’s shoes, I would certainly find it difficult to have my former spouse return to see his kids after he left the country to essentially start a new family from scratch.
Yes, time heals wounds – but having to share your children again after getting used to life as a solo parent – which is how Phoebe describes herself – would be crushing.
So I’m not surprised that she would post selfies with her two kids to coincide with Sam’s arrival. I imagine it would be her way of announcing to the world: ‘Yes, I’ve been here the whole time.’Â
But Phoebe’s devotion to her son and daughter was not the narrative.
Instead, the comments on the gallery focused on her looks. Many were unkind and I won’t repeat them – but some appeared to come from a place of genuine concern.
‘Don’t know about those lips.’ ‘What have you done to your lips?’ ‘Check with friends/family before posting.’
My first instinct when I saw the pictures – and comments – was to empathise.
I’m a 51-year-old mother of two grown-up children. In my time, I’ve been ridiculed, judged, trolled and shamed for my life choices. I’ve been a punching bag. ‘Fair game’.
I’ve had to paint on a smile when the comments were cruel, the headlines lurid.
And do you want to know how I coped?
I changed my body and my face – because I could afford to, and because I convinced myself that if I looked ‘perfect’, people might leave me alone.
In addition to her facial changes, Phoebe (left, in 2023) has also significantly slimmed down
With every injection, tweak and slice of the plastic surgeon’s knife, I moulded a version of myself that looked like a woman who wasn’t in pain.
I recall one day – after a sudden, public break-up with a man who sneered at me, ‘Why on earth do you want to be with a man who doesn’t want to be with you?’ – the first thing I did was go to a cosmetic surgeon.
It was the lowest point of my life – I was broken – and instead of calling a friend or seeing a therapist, I made a beeline for a consultation room at a posh Sydney clinic.
I took a selfie, processed it with a flattering filter, plumped and pinched it with Facetune, then smiled feebly at the surgeon: ‘Can you please make me look like this?’
The doctor smiled sympathetically, nodded and said he would do his best.
In hindsight, it may have been an act of self‑harm rather than vanity. I wanted to feel physical pain – and yes, having filler pumped into your lips hurts – to drown out the pain roaring inside.
But when it was over, I still didn’t feel sexy or pretty. I certainly didn’t feel better. I never did. That’s the thing about surgery: for some people – like me – it doesn’t end.
During a dark time in her life, Amanda Goff went overboard with cosmetic treatments
I’ve written at length about my breast enlargements, having had six (or was it seven?) of them in total. It’ll never be enough. Even now, I am considering another procedure.
The mental anguish is exhausting. I know in my heart that if you don’t fix what’s inside, no change you make to your appearance will make you feel good – yet I remain trapped by the hope that one more tweak might finally put me right.
And that’s why seeing Phoebe’s photos compelled me to write this.
This isn’t a roundabout way of saying I think she’s gone too far with the weight loss or the lip filler – even if that is my personal view.
It is simply this: for many women judged to have ‘taken it too far’ with the needle or the scalpel, there is often profound sadness beneath the surface.
When I think back to the periods in my life when strangers online were asking me, ‘Amanda, what have you done to your lips?’ I was utterly lost.
Some of the trolls were needlessly cruel. Others, as painful as it is to admit, weren’t wrong.
If Phoebe has lost weight or had her lips done because it genuinely makes her happy, then disregard everything I’ve said.
But if she’s done it because she feels she owes us something – or because she believes she has to look a certain way after being married to a footballer – then I want her to hear this: you are more than enough.
I wish someone had told me that years ago.
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