Nothing could have prepared me for what the doctor would say next: “I believe you have PCOS.” But how could that be? I didn’t fit the “profile” of someone with the condition. I wasn’t dealing with excessive body hair, hormonal acne, or irregular periods. I felt normal—normal as in, yes, I still had heavy periods, and yes, I was perhaps a little more tired than usual, but I was always tired… right? That day, I realized just how much our perception of health is shaped by stereotypes and expectations, and how easily conditions can go unnoticed simply because they don’t match the narrative we’ve been told to expect.
My experience mirrors that of many women who face what is called Lean PCOS, a form of polycystic ovary syndrome where someone may have a “normal” BMI or appear not overweight, yet still experiences underlying hormonal and metabolic challenges. In my case, I had insulin resistance and small cysts forming a “string of pearls” on one of my ovaries. The diagnosis was shocking, but initially, I downplayed it, thinking it wasn’t serious. I followed the guidance of my OB-GYN, yet it wasn’t until I attended a panel featuring women with fertility struggles, including PCOS, that I fully grasped the impact it could have on my life.
One of the first changes I had to make was in my diet and physical activity. Managing PCOS often requires adjusting for insulin resistance, which means increasing cardio and reducing sugars—even if you already walk regularly as part of your daily routine, like I do in New York City. Beyond diet and exercise, sleep and stress management quickly emerged as critical factors. At the time of my diagnosis, I was navigating a stressful job and struggling to get adequate rest. Since leaving that position and prioritizing my mental health, many of my symptoms have subsided. I’ve learned to set firm boundaries with colleagues, friends, and family, refusing to push myself beyond what I can reasonably handle. It’s been a process of unlearning, a conscious effort to reject habits I internalized as a young Black woman, but it has been incredibly freeing.
Beyond the present, PCOS has prompted me to consider my future and fertility. Even though I haven’t yet tested my egg reserve, I’ve thought about options like freezing my eggs. Healthcare professionals often recommend proactive measures at a younger age, as egg health naturally declines over time. These conversations aren’t easy in the Black community, where discussions about fertility, contraception, and reproductive planning can be stigmatized. Yet acknowledging the realities of PCOS now allows for better preparation later, and it has encouraged me to think about the long-term implications of my health decisions.
PCOS is not one-size-fits-all. Symptoms and treatment plans vary from person to person, and what works for one woman may not work for another. For me, adjusting my diet, increasing cardio, prioritizing sleep, managing stress, and leaning on loved ones have been crucial. The journey has taught me the importance of patience and perseverance, but it also highlights the power of awareness. Understanding my body and being proactive about my health has helped me navigate the condition with confidence. I’ve come to view this journey not as a limitation but as an opportunity to improve my health from the inside out, to perform at my best physically, emotionally, and socially. PCOS management is possible, but the first step always begins with recognizing it exists.