Pcos and me

Today, wed may 10th

The worst thing is the none stop bleeding, the cramps and bloating like you are pregnant.

Today was no different. I was ready and prepared. I had 5 U extra overnight pads in my bag. I knew where each bathroom was located at my uni, and I listened to my body.

The fear lives with me everyday, my travel between home and uni, is the hardest part, about 1 and half hours, with no bathroom. 

It was this afternoon when I got hit, clot after clot. different sizes. The murder scene is just horrible. You want to cry, sit on that toilet forever until it stops. 

The best moment is when you get home PJs on, pain meds taken, hot tea and a heat pack.

You can run to the bathroom as much as you want, sit on that toilet for as long as you want. 

What you don’t want is your prick of a partner complaining over and over again, over something you forgot to get. 


body image

I train 4 times a week with a trainer, my eating isn’t the best, but it isn’t that bad. I really hate my body. I want to lose weight but I just feel like no matter how hard I try it is barely coming off.

I want to be comfortable in my body, I want to be healthy and happy.

I struggle everyday to embrace my body, even though I do what I can, it never feels like enough.


I have an operation coming up next week. Nothing major. They just want some samples. This is kind of my first.

While I have been put under before, it was just for the dentist, this requires a little more work, they dont plan to cut me open, which is good, doesnt make the fear go away though.

I am afraid.

Dark patch

I have been away from home for over six weeks. I have only just come back, I had been dying to come home, to see my fur baby and my lovely partner. 

Both are my rocks, my partner he helps keeps me grounded, and my four legged baby girl always makes me smile.

Sometimes that is not enough to keep the darkness at bay. 

The crushing weight of feeling like a failure, it so much of life. Of being in limbo and not knowing which step to take. 

What can you say when the weight of the past sits on your chest, holding at bay any thought of happiness in the future. When in the back of a friends car, that pain finds itself exploding through the mouth piece. Of screams, tears and a need to break every part of one’s self. The loathing bubbling up through word of loathing, of what feels like truth. Where the idea of falling out of the car and letting the quiet dark win.

The last week of my journey found every part of myself stripped, to nothing but a shell. 

Still I am home recovering, finding the memories dancing around me a play, a drama, a movie on repeat. A never ending cycle of anger at the self for the mistakes that were made. 


I am the oldest of two childern, my brother is two years younger then me. I have spent the uni holidays back home with my family. My parents had us late in life and it has been hard.

My father who is in his late 70’s has dementia. My mother who is in her early 70’s is looking after him. My brother lives in the same state as them but has alot on his plate. I live on the other side of australia from them.

After seeing them, I came to the understanding that I now have to move back. While planning a wedding.

My anxiety is off the charts, my depression is up and down. I am in limbo. All this is affecting me. I have put my health aside while here, I spent the week cleaning up my parents place with the help of my cuz. The fights and the stress sucked me dry, the dark circles, the emotional draining was hard to deal with.

I spent today in the longest bath of my life, washed my hair three times. I am still recovering from it all.

I can’t wait to go home and re-energise. I usually wont see anyone for a couple of days when I first get home.

There is still so much to do, when I get back we have to back up our lives. I don’t know where I am going to live right now. My partner can’t move with me straight away as he needs to find a job. So I have no idea how long we will be apart. I have no idea where we will be living in the end. So many questions and no answers.

It sucks that someone with PCOS where the body reacts to everything, eating habits, activity, emotions etc. I am so exhuasted and just want to find a corner and hide.


I am not one to feel a need to try on dresses. I know what I look like and I accept that. But I am getting married next year and well a dress is needed. I have never really had that gene.

Trying on a wedding dress can be the worst experience. The ladies can be lovely. Your friends can be supportive. Your family think you look amazing. But when you see the size and limit something cries inside you and you do not dare want to go into another store.

I hate the size I need, which is a 20. Every day clothing I am about a 16-18. Right now the only thing I want to do is up everything I am doing. So you get an idea of how crushing it is for me, and that I am actually an active person.

3 times a week I am with a trainer

3 times a week I am at yoga

I am active everyday.

I dont have all that much junk food.

But PCOS just hates you. For a normal person this sort of life style would allow you to be a 12-14. Not me though. The bloating is the worst. When I am heavy, forget it I look like I have a pot belly.

I decided because I have lost weight before my lowest number was 89kg. My goal is to get into a size 16 wedding dress, which would make me a normal 14 in clothes. I feel this is a realistic goal.

right now I am suffering inside. I feel like I am not worthy of wearing a wedding dress.

jean complex

Jeans, a staple of the everyday wearer, dress them up, dress them down, the are like the colour black, will go with pretty much everything.

I havent warn jeans in ages, I can’t remember the last time I wore a pair. I have them hidden away in my closet, among the clothes that used to fit me. I have been reduced to elastic waisted skirts, and cotton pants.

I am going away, this weekend and I knew I had to go and get some jeans. For most women the idea of clothes shopping is a dream, a fun experience, a right. For me its anxiety and fear, every store is different, every type of fabric sits differently, every desgin is shaped differently. No pulling off the rack and walking up and just paying. No op shop bargins for me.

I knew though the safest place to go, for any woman of my size would be my local city chic, where the clothes are desgined with my shape in mind. While other stores may have larger sizes they never think about the shape of the clothes, city chic does.

I went in still worried. I was freaking out that maybe the size I was thinking I would be would be wrong and I would have to go a size up, I hated it.

As I looked along the shelves I started to panic, nearly everything was skinny leg, until finally I saw them, bootcut. I can’t in my own mind pull off skinny leg, I am not made for it, at this moment in time.

I found a pair of 16 regular and a pair of 18 regular. The 16 were the normal blue, while the 18 were black. Standing in the change room I knew what I had to try first, I hated it. I didn’t want to be an 18 I wanted to still be a 16, I knew though it wasn’t going to be that way.

For the first time in ages I slid a pair of jeans on, and they fit. I knew they would be a little loose around the waist, but still a 16 would be slightly too tight. I did the sit down test.

for some people who don’t know, a sit down test is to see for me personally how much of my belly moves forward. I didn’t want to be cut off. I am not delusional, I know what I look like.

They were comfortable, you could still see the tiny bit of belly sticking out, but a 20 would start falling off. I just had to accept the flaws I have.

It was the shortest time I have ever had to be in a change room, and it is a costly expense being large then the norm. I am just grateful that i dont have to run from store to store trying to figure out what size I am in each.

This was a 20 minute excercise, with a dash of fear.

me, myself and my hair

It is strange, but one of the hardest things for me to deal with, is the extra hair. The chin hair is the most mentally and emotionally draining part of pcos. You can hide most parts of pcos, people can’t see the extra bleeding, the sugar cravings, or the depression/anxiety.

what they can see, is the hair that grows on your chin. I know that some pcos women shave it, I actually wax it, every four weeks. When I hit that 3rd week, that is when I become less, I freakout. The hair becomes a 5oclock shadow. It becomes this becon, I feel like everyone is staring.

It is spiky and corase. It is sharp. It is dark and black. I see it whenever I look into the mirror. I feel it everytime I wash my face, or scratch.

I can not embrace this part of myself, I am ashamed to admit. I wish I could, I wish it wouldnt affect me so much.

It just does.


Im on metformin.

this is a diabetic drug. there is no drug designed for PCOS.

When you get over the first couple of weeks, your body gets used to the medication. But when you first start, or stop by accident, you pay the price.

I felt this price last night/this morning. There has been alot of trips to the bathroom. A porcelain seat, is not what any person likes sitting on, on and off all night.

This painful reaction has caused me to have to stay home from uni. My tummy feels like a ticking time bomb, having to watch what I am eating, watch my food. Who knows what will set off my bathroom trips.



Mother’s day

I am almost 35yrs old, I have been with my partner coming onto 13yrs. We are getting married on our 14th anaversary.

We do not have kids, my partner is ok with it happening naturally but will not go out of their way to have one.

What does this mean for me, a woman who has pcos, my chances are extremely low. I am.one of the ones who will most likely never know motherhood.

The hardest part of this, is hearing people tell me the know a friend, or a friend of a friend who has pcos and has a child. This makes it worse for me.

I feel less of a woman, I feel I have failed, I feel empty.

I do hold hope, this tiny light sits in my heart, it is so small but I still believe I have that chance.

I just am so tired of the stories, just let me be, listen and comfort. Don’t try and make my pain seem less. I can sit and tell everyone the private reasons why I will never be called mother, never celebrate mother’s Day.

Just hug us, care for us, and just listen. 

Mother’s Day is hard.