How I Made Peace With the Frustrating Symptoms Brought on by PCOS

One of the ongoing goals of my life is to learn to really love my body, no matter the shape or size. I've given up dieting. I embraced joyful movement instead of exercise for weight loss. I'm at peace with the strands of silver that are starting to show up in my hair and the way my eyes crinkle now when I really smile. I buy clothes that fit me and shoes that don't hurt my feet. I'm militantly on my own side except for one small problem. Well, several small problems, really, and they all live on my chin.

I can embrace almost every part of my perfectly imperfect body, but I just can't seem to make peace with my chin hairs.

There was a time in my life when I didn't keep tweezers in my car to attack those spikey little monsters. For most of my life, the only plucking I had to worry about was my eyebrows. Those were the good old days, before PCOS changed my body in ways that took me a long time to make peace with.

For those who are lucky enough to have hormones that work correctly and aren't fighting a losing battle with chin hair, polycystic ovary syndrome is a condition that causes a variety of frustrating symptoms like irregular periods, thinning head hair, bad acne, difficulty losing weight, and infertility. PCOS can also make people like me more likely to develop Type 2 diabetes, sleep apnea, depression, and endometrial cancer. The causes of PCOS are still unknown and there isn't really a cure for it, beyond trying to manage symptoms.

My PCOS journey started with irregular periods.

I went from every month like clockwork to "Hmm, have I had a period yet this year?" which didn't seem like the worst thing in the world. Who would miss monthly cramps? But then I wanted to start having kids. After years of diligent birth control use, I went off the pill and expected to wake up pregnant the next day. Months and months and months passed and I wasn't ovulating so I wasn't getting pregnant. I was young and healthy and it never occurred to me that I might not be able to conceive right away. I eventually did get pregnant, but my PCOS got worse after that.

I started steadily putting on weight, even though my eating and exercise habits hadn't changed much. I got the worst case of acne I'd ever had, breaking out like a teenager at the ripe old age of 32. My ponytail got thinner and thinner. I would yank hairs out of my chin and despair about the hair on my head.

PCOS made me feel ugly.

In some ways, PCOS is perfectly designed to make those of us who have it feel unattractive. The ways it changes our bodies is in direct conflict with societal beauty norms. We live in a culture that values thinness and PCOS makes us gain weight. We see celebrities with thick, gorgeous hair (and expensive hair extensions) while we are worried about whether we have a bald spot. We place a high value on effortless pregnancy and motherhood, and PCOS makes fertility a challenge. When we talk about beauty we talk about flawless skin, which usually doesn't include chin hair.

PCOS is a real and frustrating medical condition with health consequences that can be serious, so it can feel vain to explain to people that the changes to my appearance were the hardest part. I mean, sure, I don't want to develop diabetes. But I also really missed the way I used to look before PCOS.

It's been nearly 15 years since I was first diagnosed with PCOS.

I've tried various treatments, including supplements and prescriptions, to try to regulate my hormones. I get lab work to make sure I stay out of the prediabetes range. I've waxed and plucked and lasered my chin (didn't work, made it worse, sadly) and started Rogaine for my hair. I'm done having babies, so that has helped me let go of the anxiety around my fertility. I've spent a lot of time figuring out how to make peace with my body, to not let my PCOS be something that affects my mental health.

I found that having a daughter has helped. I'm keenly aware that I will be her first and best role model for how women feel about their bodies. I want her to see that I treat my body like it belongs to someone I love. She might have PCOS one day. I hope she doesn't, but if she does, I want her to remember that it wasn't the thing that defined me or got to be in charge of how I felt about myself.

The truth is that I'll probably be doing the work of loving my body, PCOS changes and all, for the rest of my life.

Some days will be better than others. Sometimes I'll have to work harder to remember that I am more than my size, that pretty isn't the rent I have to pay to live in the universe. Some days I'll cringe when my husband rests his hand on the belly where I carry my PCOS weight, other days I'll believe him with ease when he says he still thinks I'm sexy.

I'll remind myself that there is a whole beauty and diet industry that makes money off me feeling badly about myself, so I'll spend that money on things that bring me joy and comfort instead. I'll remember that choosing not to hate myself is a political act and loving my fat self is a way to cause good trouble in the universe. I'll be militantly on my own side.

I might never love my chin hairs (although I'm hoping my current efforts with electrolysis will help me get rid of them for good), but I'm certain now that I can continue to make peace with my PCOS and love the skin I'm in, no matter what my size.