My most intimate secret was cruelly exposed in our WhatsApp group chat - all because I cancelled dinner. The reaction of my 'friends' was devastating
I can still hear the ping of my phone, the sound of my entire social life imploding in real-time.
One second, I'm waking from a deep sleep, blissfully unaware that my so-called best mate, Paige*, was out there lobbing nuclear-grade betrayal into our group chat. The next, my stomach wasn't just metaphorically in knots - it was tight, surgically reinforced, and the hottest topic of conversation amongst our friends.
'At least I didn't cheat my way to a flat stomach.'
That's what she wrote. That's what she threw out into the world like a flaming Molotov of spite, accompanied by screenshots of my private texts about my tummy tuck consultation and our chats about her helping me out with the kids while I recovered. Messages I had sent her in confidence. Just for her. Because I trusted her.
This was a full-blown social war that started over a missed dinner - yes, really.
Paige and I had been tight since our university days. She was there through my first pregnancy, through my meltdown when I found out I was having twins on round two, through the long, sleepless nights when I felt like my body had been hijacked by little people who demanded everything and left me with nothing but stretch marks and a pelvic floor made of Swiss cheese.
She knew I had struggled with my body after the twins. She knew how hard I worked, how many godawful burpees I did, how many salads I choked down trying to fix what pregnancy had left behind. And she knew that no matter how many planks I held or how much protein powder I chugged, my diastasis recti - the brutal abdominal separation that left me with a permanent pooch - wasn't something I could exercise away.
So when I finally made the decision to have surgery, I only told a select few. My husband, my mum, and Paige. Because my worst fear was people talking about me. Whispering. Judging. I didn't want to be the subject of hushed gossip or smug 'I knew it' nods at brunch. This wasn't vanity - it was about feeling like myself again. And Paige had sworn she understood.
A woman was shocked to discover private information about her tummy tuck surgery had been maliciously leaked to her friend group chat (stock image, posed by model)
And then, in one petty, vengeful moment, she torched me.
Paige had arranged a dinner with the girls - nothing fancy, just a Friday night catch-up at our usual place. I was meant to go. I wanted to go. But life, as usual, had other plans. One twin had a fever, the other had decided bedtime was for the weak, and my husband was working late. I texted Paige to say I couldn't make it, feeling like a garbage friend but also knowing she'd understand.
She did not understand.
Instead, I got a curt, passive-aggressive 'Sure. Whatever.' And then silence.
At first, I thought she was just annoyed. But the next morning, when I woke up to a group chat that looked like a battleground, I started to wonder.
It was clear that the messages were a follow up from a conversation that had begun at the dinner I missed.
'She always bails.'
'She's just too good for us now.'
She had not disclosed her tummy tuck to her wider friendship group (stock image)
And then - the message. The one that outed me in the most humiliating way possible.
This wasn't normal. This level of rage didn't match the crime. It was a dinner, not a betrayal. So why did she lash out like this? Was this about something else? Had she been holding onto some deeper resentment? And why, of all the things she could have said, did she choose this to hurt me with?
I felt like the ground had disappeared beneath me. My heart was pounding. I couldn't even process what I was looking at. Because this wasn't just a spat. This wasn't just an argument. This was calculated. This was designed to hurt. And it did.
I gave her my trust and she weaponised it.
The reactions were immediate and varied. Some of our friends called her out straight away. 'Low blow, Paige.' 'Why would you do that?' Others stayed suspiciously quiet. And some… some were kind of into it.
I don't know what was worse - the initial betrayal or the slow, creeping realisation that people were whispering about me now. That when I walked into brunch, there'd be side-eyes and hushed giggles. That instead of my friends knowing how hard I worked to love my body, they now thought I was some kind of fraud.
But here's the thing: I'm not ashamed of my tummy tuck.
I was never ashamed of the decision. I was ashamed that I felt like my body had failed me, that no amount of effort could fix what pregnancy had done. I was ashamed of the way I felt about it, like I had to pretend I was okay when I wasn't. The surgery didn't make me 'fake.' It made me whole again. And that's not something I owe anyone an explanation for.
As for Paige? She never apologised. She sent me a half-a**ed, 'Sorry if that upset you' text, the kind of non-apology that makes your eye twitch. And I left it on read, because what's the point?
Friendships, like bodies, change after babies. Some stretch and grow. Some snap under the weight. And some, no matter how hard you try to mend them, never quite go back to what they were before.
I don't miss her. I miss who I thought she was. But mostly, I'm done pretending that loyalty means tolerating betrayal.
And if anyone else wants to come for my tummy tuck? I own my choices. Can you say the same?
* Names have been changed
As told to Rebel Wylie
