Disclaimer: This article is based on my personal experiences and research. It is not intended to replace professional medical advice. Please consult a qualified healthcare provider for guidance specific to your health needs.
For the longest time, I genuinely thought weight loss had to hurt. Like, if it didn’t feel punishing, I wasn’t doing it right. If you have PCOS, I bet you’ve been stuck in that same exhausting loop. You start by eating a little less. When the scale doesn’t budge, you eat almost nothing. Still nothing? Okay, time to live in the gym. Nothing again? Then clearly I’m the problem; lazy, weak-willed, broken body, pick your poison.
I did all of it. I starved myself until my hands shook. I believed the Instagram gospel that real discipline means powering through hunger so hard you basically live on black coffee and willpower. I tried those scary water fasts and coffee cleanses that promise you’ll wake up glowing and 5 kg lighter. I killed myself with high-intensity interval training every single day, thinking that if I just suffered enough, my body would finally cooperate.
Spoiler: it didn’t cooperate. It rebelled. My energy crashed so hard that I could barely get out of bed. My mood swung like a pendulum. Anxiety went from background noise to screaming. And the weirdest part? I became obsessed with food. Like, could-not-stop-thinking-about-it obsessed. At one point, it tipped into straight-up disordered eating; I was that tangled up in PCOS frustration, body hate, calorie math, and shame.
PCOS doesn’t just mess with your hormones and periods. It messes with how you see yourself in the mirror. When you’re doing everything right and still not losing weight, it’s so easy to decide your body is defective and you’re the failure.
Here’s the thing I wish someone had sat me down and said years ago: Most of us with PCOS aren’t failing at weight loss. We’re just following rules that were never written for bodies like ours. Eating way too little is probably the 1st trap. Diet culture screams less is more forever. But for PCOS bodies, extreme restriction backfires spectacularly. Your metabolism slows to a crawl, stress hormones (cortisol) shoot up, your body clings to fat like it’s emergency rations, and sometimes it even eats your muscle instead. Survival mode is real, and it’s brutal.
Another huge one: doing endless cardio while avoiding weights. I used to think that more running = more results. But too much high-intensity stuff just keeps cortisol spiked, which makes insulin resistance worse and tells your body “hold the fat, danger ahead!” You can end up skinny-fat, exhausted, and still not lose the stubborn PCOS weight. Cutting carbs completely? Same story. Sure, ultra-processed junk and sugary stuff make insulin resistance worse, but wholesome carbs (oats, sweet potatoes, fruits, dals, quinoa, and brown rice) actually help stabilise blood sugar and give your hormones and energy a fighting chance. Ditch them all, and hello fatigue, crankiness, cravings, and eventual binge-restrict chaos.
And don’t get me started on random 7-day detoxes, celery juice miracles, or one weird trick reels. PCOS is not a quick-fix condition. It’s hormones + insulin + stress + sleep + gut health + inflammation all talking to each other. No green smoothie or Ayurvedic drink is going to untangle that overnight. What actually moved the needle for me was switching from punishment to support. Small, consistent calorie deficit instead of starvation. Protein in every meal (eggs, paneer, chicken, lentils, Greek yoghurt, tofu) so blood sugar doesn’t rollercoaster and hunger stays manageable. Fibre-rich carbs that actually taste good and keep me energised instead of crashing. Healthy fats because hormones literally need them to function. A little fermented stuff (curd, homemade kanji, occasional kimchi) to calm inflammation.
Movement-wise: I stopped trying to earn my food. 30–40 min walks most days feel gentle and sustainable. Strength training 2–3 times a week (bodyweight squats, lunges, push-ups, and resistance bands) changed everything; better insulin sensitivity, more muscle, and faster metabolism over time. Consistency beats intensity every single day. And the non-negotiables outside the kitchen/gym: 7–8 hours of sleep (seriously life-changing for hunger hormones). Some kind of stress dial-down (journaling, 10-min meditation, slow evening walks, therapy when I could afford it). Eating every 3–5 hours so my body doesn’t think it’s in famine. But honestly? The biggest shift wasn’t food or workouts; it was deciding that I’m not broken. If you have PCOS and the scale is stubborn, you are not lazy. You are not less disciplined. You’re not failing harder than everyone else. You’re navigating a hormonal landscape that most weight-loss advice completely ignores. Your worth isn’t hiding in a smaller dress size; it was never there. You deserve kindness, especially from the one person who’s been hardest on you: yourself.
It’s okay if progress crawls. It’s okay if your body doesn’t look like the filtered PCOS transformation posts. It’s okay if you’re still unlearning diet trauma and learning how to eat without guilt. Be patient with the girl who didn’t know better back then. Forgive her. And then keep showing up for her, with real food, with gentle movement, with rest, with grace. Because you, exactly as you are right now, are already worth taking care of.
Sending you the biggest hug if you’re in the middle of this journey, you’re not alone. If this resonated with you or you want more conversations like this, you can find more of my work on my profile at Her Campus at MUJ..