Rebecca Gibney makes a splash

At 46, Australia’s golden girl Rebecca Gibney remains a knockout in a swimsuit. She tells Kelly Baker how diet, exercise and the support of a loving husband have helped her embrace her changing body.

“Who else is appearing in this story,” asks Rebecca, “Are there any other older women … or just me?” The conversation we have next goes something like this. I say a name and Rebecca responds, “Gorgeous girl … younger. Beautiful girl, but also younger. Lovely, lovely girl, stunning … younger.”

Rebecca is laughing throatily throughout and the conversation is clearly in jest, but there’s something so very sweet and vulnerable about her that I feel compelled to try to say something positive anyway. And so I tell her that, sure, she might be the oldest of the beautiful women that The Weekly has included in this particular portfolio, but she’s the one who will take the coveted cover position.

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The hairstylist begins working on those soft blonde curls and I perch on a stool nearby. We talk nonsense, gossip about marriages gone bad (Rebecca is happily married to artist Richard Bell, but an earlier marriage to singer Jack Jones ended in divorce) and swap stories about our children. She swoons over her son and his utter deliciousness, her husband’s, too. She’s utterly in love with them both. In fact, as far as Rebecca is concerned, life is heavenly. She finally has the family she’s always dreamed of, she’s surrounded by dear friends and, she loves playing late-in-life mum Julie in the Seven Network’s Packed To The Rafters. Everything in her life is damn near perfect (touch wood) although, she does admit that she occasionally looks in the mirror and simply can not believe what she sees.

“There are times when I think, ‘Whoa, where did that come from?’ ” says Rebecca, shaking her head and poking at her flat tummy with a finger. “But for the most part I feel pretty good. My husband always says to me, ‘Darling, you’re beautiful just as you are. It doesn’t matter anyway, as we’re going to grow old together; let it go.’ And I think he’s right. There is something liberating about getting older. I’ll always try and make the most of what I’ve got, but I’m not going to get stressed about it. I’m not 25, I’m not 35, I’m not even 45! So there’s no point trying to be.”

Still, she’s not about to give up altogether. Rebecca loves regular facials, she cares for her skin and never goes without SPF 30+. She also dabbles in a little Botox, the muscle-freezing injectable that instantly wipes away fine lines and wrinkles.

“I don’t have any right now,” she laughs, when I ask her. “I mean, have a look?” And at that, she wrinkles her brow and crinkles her eyes to demonstrate. But I do occasionally get just a little. I don’t go overboard. I don’t want to look frozen and I can’t be an actress and have no expression in my face – that would be mad. But I do get some of the harsher lines softened.”

Not too many women in the public eye will admit to getting work of any kind done, but Rebecca is one of those rare honest creatures who will ’fess up to just about anything. She tells me she had considered surgery (“Heck, I’ve considered everything,” she chortles), but is too afraid to go through with it.

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“I’ve done the research,” she whispers to me. “I looked at an eye lift, but I have noticed very few people get great work done. I believe the eyes are the window to the soul and I’m terrified the surgeon would muck it up and then what? I might end up looking like a startled deer or like I’ve got a carrot up my bum.”

Read more of this story in the January issue of The Australian Women’s Weekly.