For nearly 40 years, I lived with a secret that shaped everything – how I dressed, how I stood and even how I felt in my marriage.
I became a master of disguise. I would hide behind a handbag, twist my body so cameras never caught me side-on, picked outfits that skimmed rather than clung and absolutely never wore a bikini.
The reason? My stomach overhung my waistband like an oversized apron. And it made me feel old, overweight and, frankly, undesirable.
Yet I became so skilled at disguising my stomach that even my husband Richard didn’t realise the extent to which it affected my confidence. It felt easier to make a joke of it – amongst family members, I even gave my tummy the nickname ‘Fred’ – than admit how upsetting I found it.
In fact, Richard didn’t find out the truth until the approach of my 60th birthday – which is when I decided it was time to do something radical, and gave myself the best present I’ve ever received: a tummy tuck costing £9,000.
Until I fell pregnant with our twin daughters, Heather and Laura, at 23, I had always been a size 10, weighing around 8st. But during the pregnancy I put on 3st.
Life at our home in Southport was relentless with two newborn babies. Richard was in the Army, and much of the time I was managing alone, exhausted. Like so many mothers, I put myself last.
But I wanted to lose the baby weight, and tried everything from Slimming World to endless Zumba classes. Though I lost about a stone and a half, nine months after giving birth, suddenly my stomach fell down in a fold over my hips.
June Sadler says she hid her body from her husband Richard, which impacted their sex life – but now, pictured, she’s a size 10 and confident wearing bikinis again
Though it appeared like the loose skin many people experience after extreme weight loss, it still seemed fatty. It was so demoralising to have put in all that effort to lose my baby weight, only to be left with what felt like an unsightly spare tyre.
Though no one ever commented on it, I couldn’t help but notice the unkind stares when I was out with girls.
As a result of this, and my newfound feelings of self-loathing, I hid myself even in front of Richard, getting changed in the bathroom, or with the lights off. I’d gone from feeling sexy to frumpy almost overnight, and hated it.
My self-consciousness temporarily halted our sex life. The long-term impact of my lack of confidence on our intimacy in the decades since has been one of the hardest things, because I love Richard deeply, and our marriage means everything to me.
Initially, I hoped that by continuing with traditional weightloss methods my stomach would go back to how it had been pre-pregnancy, yet I was to be proved wrong. Sadly, surgery is often the only option in these cases. Facing up to the realisation there was no ‘cure’ or quick fix was devastating.
When the girls were five, I had our son Asheton. At 9lbs he was a big baby – and in the months after giving birth, ‘Fred’ came back even bigger than before.
Though my legs and upper body would have fitted in size 12 clothes, I needed a size 16 in order to cover my stomach.
In the years the followed, my body hatred was so ingrained that hiding my figure became second nature.
As a mother-of-three, and with a demanding job as the head of a pre-school, I threw myself into work and childcare, hiding my upset behind practicalities – and a well-honed technique of tricks, from my loose wardrobe to always using a bag as ‘armour’.
June’s tummy before the operation in February and, right, after having the surgery
Post surgery, Richard says June has been singing around the house for the first time in years
If the topic of my figure ever came I up, I’d try to laugh it off – which was how the ‘Fred’ nickname was born. But while I may have seemed outwardly ok, things never got any easier.
I first considered having a tummy tuck aged 42 in 2008, when the kids were 19 and 14, but told myself it was too indulgent – the money should be spent on other things, other people.
For 16 years more I struggled on. But things became even harder around 18 months ago, aged 58, when I had an emergency hysterectomy after years of pain and heavy bleeding due to endometriosis.
Though it sounds strange, I had secretly hoped that one upside of this surgery might be that my stomach was smaller afterwards. But due to the scarring and swelling, the opposite was true.
Friends told me I had become quieter and more withdrawn; I felt as though I’d aged a decade overnight.
Then, as my 60th birthday loomed, I started to take stock of my life – and the misery my stomach had caused me. That’s when I thought, if not now, when?
Around the same time, my daughter encouraged me to join TikTok. By then Richard and I were both retired, and she suggested I could document our travels through Europe.
In May 2025 I began sharing short videos. That small step changed my life far more than I expected.
June in her early twenties, pregnant with twin daughters Heather and Laura
And at 16 with the man she would marry, Richard, relaxing by the swimming pool
I began to sell items through TikTok shop, and this little side-hustle gave me both the confidence – and the financial means – to finally invest in myself.
Richard was fully supportive of me getting the tummy tuck, and after careful research I chose Pall Mall Medical in Newton-le-Willows, Merseyside. While the £9,000 cost seemed steep, I knew it would be worth it to find myself again.
I remember nervously asking whether I was too old for the procedure, and feeling such relief when the surgeon told me I was certainly not his first 60-year-old patient.
He advised me to lose weight first for a better result, and I lost 10lb on a strict calorie-counting diet, which took me down to 11st 7lb.
The procedure, in February this year, took around two hours under general anaesthetic. I woke up wrapped in dressings, wearing a tight compression binder I had to wear day and night for six weeks.
A week later, returning to the clinic to have my drain removed, I saw my stomach properly for the first time. Though it was bruised and swollen, I could see Fred was gone.
When the nurse told me that more than 5lbs of fat and skin had been removed I was stunned – but delighted.
Recovery required patience, with plenty of rest. But once the binder came off, the feeling was indescribable.
I felt euphoric – and instantly started dreaming of the clothes that I finally felt I could wear with confidence again.
Just weeks later, Richard and I went on holiday to Spain. In my new wardrobe of slim-fit size 10-12 dresses, shirts tucked into jeans and, yes, bikinis, I felt younger than I had in decades.
Richard tells me I look amazing, but he says the change to my figure is far less dramatic than the change to my personality. Recently, he commented that I’ve been singing around the house for the first time in years. I hadn’t even noticed I’d stopped.
People may accuse me of vanity, but this hasn’t just been about reclaiming my fitted wardrobe. It’s about reclaiming my joy for life. At 60, I feel genuinely excited about what the future holds.
I now know it’s never too late to put yourself first. I just wish I hadn’t waited quite so long.
Follow June on TikTok at @june.healthbeauty
As told to Matthew Barbour
