EGGS IN A BROKEN BASKET: LIFE WITH PCOS
The mirror, which reminded me daily I was not the fairest in the land, started to tell an even grimmer tale. My face became moon shaped, the wisps of upper-lip hair — an Italian rite of passage — became darker. Acne speckled my face. Most noticeably, I got fat. Like when people pretend to be pregnant and put a pillow under their shirt.