I, alongside what is seemingly one in 5 women, have PCOS. My bastard little ovaries are ganging up on me. It’s somewhat a pain in the arse, given that the advisory lifestyle changes include avoiding wine and potatoes (two of my most stable food groups), but a real relief that I finally have an answer to my questions. Earlier this year, I started noticing some changes. I was putting on weight for no apparent reason, I had severe bloating that nothing would shift, my skin was oily and I was breaking out constantly. I’ve always been quite a hairy person, but the level of thick dark hairs on my body started to creep up and then, finally, my periods decided they had better things to do than pay me regular visits. After multiple pregnancy panics I was finally referred for a scan. The next day, they confirmed my diagnosis.
I can’t say much else about it at this point, because my lazy ass keeps forgetting to do her research. But I have decided to attempt some lifestyle changes in the form of eating less bread (actually wept at the initial thought), drinking less wine, consuming less sugar overall and attempting to pack in my beloved cigarettes. Basically, I just need a little detox so my ovaries decide they like me again.
Sometimes the thought of PCOS terrifies me. Sometimes I feel fine. When I first had an inkling that it could be diagnosis (after weeks of googling), I struggled massively with the idea. Because, as I’m sure you’re all aware when googling any symptoms, I was being dealt the ‘worst case scenario’ outcomes. Which, in my case, were diabetes, heart disease, certain types of endometrial cancer and infertility. I can’t wait to have babies. Anyone who knows me will tell you, I have been broody since I was about 7 years old and the world without my future feminist offspring sounds pretty shit to me. So, that was my biggest fear. But I am 25. I have been reassured that, providing I look after myself and don’t wait until I’m verging on menopausal to procreate, I should be OK. And you’d better believe I’ll be dragging you all along for the journey with me.
If anyone else out there is a fellow polysister (getttt ittt?!), please hit me up as I need a friend or two to support me and listen to me whinge about the lack of Pinot Grigio in my bloodstream. Seriously, though. Stuff like this is always made easier with a support system and people who are willing to listen to your problems and share theirs. We women need eachother, because otherwise I’ll be stuck with my boyfriends who keeps rubbing my lower stomach while making pitiful faces towards it and ostensibly forgetting my lifestyle changes and buying me cake.
In news other than that of my new cyst-filled life, it’s finally fucking October. Autumn is my fave. If you read these weekly (as you bloody well should be), you’ll know what I’m talking about. And the best bit of all (yes, even better than proper comfort food and fur coats)? Halloween. I am actually pretty chocka around my favourite holiday this year, so doubt I’ll get to host or attend anything spectacularly spooky, but for the weeks surrounding, you can find me gliding through my office in full Disney villain garb, or at home scaring the living shit out of myself watching scary films on repeat. Next weekend, I am off up to Scotland for a few days to spend some time at home, with my boyfriend and first ever best friends, where we will also be doing the first shoot and sneak peak of some of the merch that will be launching here before Christmas! Stay tuned.