Hi there,
Today we have Daisy Larwood-Knights sharing her PMOS diagnosis and the push for her to get pregnant straight away.
I know her story will resonate with a lot of you - partly because I hear it echoed in the DMs constantly, and partly because she articulates something really important about what it means to navigate PCOS when the healthcare system has let you down.
Daisy was diagnosed in her teens, dismissed by multiple doctors, gaslit about her own diagnosis, pressured about her fertility, and eventually forced to become an expert in her own condition because nobody else would do the work.
So I asked her to walk us through it. In her words. Here’s what she shared.
This episode can be listened to on all major platforms, including Spotify, Apple and YouTube. If you prefer reading, I have summarised it below.
I’m Daisy and I’ve been diagnosed with PMOS for 4 years. My diagnosis came after I came off the contraceptive pill that had been masking my symptoms from adolescence. I write about my diagnosis, my experience with PMOS and healthcare on Substack. I’m a keen runner and have an Instagram called the PMOS Runner where I document the realities of training with a chronic condition and try to combat misinformation around PMOS, cortisol and running exercise.
My diagnosis was an accident
I didn’t go to a doctor asking for PCOS. I went because I was concerned about something else entirely. But when the ultrasound came back, there they were: cysts on my ovaries. The doctor said the word, PCOS, and then didn’t say much else. No explanation of what it meant. No “here’s what we know” or “here’s what we don’t know.” Just the diagnosis, and then later, the pill.
I was told to take it as if it would fix me. Like antibiotics. Like if I just stayed on it long enough, the problem would go away.
It didn’t work that way.
Coming off the pill, coming undone
When I stopped taking it — because I thought I was cured — everything came back. The acne. The weight changes. The irregular periods. And suddenly I was dealing with something the healthcare system had told me was solved.
That’s when I started researching. Obsessively. For hours. Reading medical papers, following the evidence trails, trying to understand what was actually happening in my body. And here’s the thing: anything I’ve learned about PCOS, I learned through my own research. My doctors haven’t walked me through the mechanisms. They haven’t explained the hormones. They haven’t taught me why my body is doing what it’s doing.
They just kept offering me the same solution: lose weight, take the pill, or — and this is the one that still stings — “your fertility is really low, so if you want to have a child, you need to think about having one right now.”
They said that to me when I was lean. When my BMI was completely normal. That was their response to low fertility: panic, urgency, and no actual pathway to help.
BMI bias works both ways
What I didn’t expect was that the bias could cut the other way too. I went to one doctor who tried to undiagnose me. He looked at me and said, “I don’t think you have PCOS. I’ve never seen anyone with PCOS look like you.” And then he gestured at my body, as if my appearance alone was proof of the diagnosis being wrong.
So now I understand: if you’re overweight with PCOS, you’re told to lose weight. If you’re lean with PCOS, you’re told you don’t actually have it. Either way, you’re gaslit. The diagnosis doesn’t fit into the boxes doctors know how to treat.
Finding what actually helped
Moving forward wasn’t about another diet. It was about finding something I actually enjoyed whcih was running. And I’ve stuck with it. Not because it’s going to cure me. Not because I’m chasing a particular body outcome. But because it feels good. Because it’s sustainable. Because I actually love it.
That was the shift for me: moving from “exercise because my body is wrong” to “exercise because it brings me joy.” Those are completely different things.
The comparison trap
One of the hardest things I’ve had to learn is to stop comparing myself to other people with PCOS. We all present so differently. Your hormones, your body, your symptoms, they’re a completely unique expression. And comparison is the biggest killer of motivation. It tells you that if someone else’s approach didn’t work for you, you’re failing. But you’re not. You’re just different.
I’m learning to be kind to myself. Not to restrict, not to punish myself when I eat something, not to spiral into guilt. Just to exist with some moderation and self-compassion.
What I want you to know
If you’re self-researching right now, it’s not a character flaw. It’s not you being obsessive. It’s the system failing to give you the information you need to understand your own body. If your doctor has dismissed you, gaslit you about your diagnosis, or told you to lose weight without any actual support structure, that’s not a reflection on you. That’s a reflection of how broken the pathway is.
You deserve clarity. You deserve someone to explain your condition to you. You deserve to be believed.
See you next Sunday,
Francesca
Disclaimer: We are all unique in our own ways, so this information is for educational purposes only. This shouldn’t be viewed as medical advice at any point. Please further consult your healthcare provider about your health needs.
