Life for Lola

I've been diagnosed with the pocs! I've got polycystic ovaries. It means my voracious appetite for red wine is not to blame for my inability to shift the pounds. Sadly I will now have to limit my exposure to refined starches so pasta will have to take a step back out of my consuming limelight. The ladyfriend is very supportive, she has told me she will be there to smack the back of my hand when I go in for an extra slice of garlic bread.

I have been looking on the internet there are hundreds of wimmin out there with the same condition all of varying symptoms - fortunately I have got away without having a beard, but according to the various support groups it could have gone either way.

It's quite nice being a "victim" I feel a bit special, I can see how addictive it can become. Like a lottery winning laudrette worker I must take steps that my new status doesn't change me, I am still Lola. I shall join a group and make cakes and raise awareness, go on marches shouting "Let me be, I am me, even though I'm P, O ,C"