Weight gain on ADT is almost guaranteed. Losing it afterward is not. That’s the part no one prepares you for. You come off treatment expecting your body to “bounce back,” and instead you’re staring at the same 30–35 pounds that showed up when your hormones were taken offline. It feels unfair. It feels slow. And it tests you in ways the treatment itself didn’t.
But here’s the truth I’ve had to accept:
This weight isn’t a punishment. It’s a reality. And reality is something I can work with.
ADT changed my metabolism, my muscle mass, my energy, and the way my body stores fat. Coming off treatment doesn’t magically reverse any of that. The weight stays until I take it off—slowly, deliberately, and without the illusion that it will happen overnight.
So I’m choosing a different approach.
Not anger.
Not shame.
Not the fantasy of “getting back to who I was.”
Instead, I’m choosing ownership.
I can’t control what ADT did to my body, but I can control what I do next. I can rebuild strength one workout at a time. I can move my body even when it’s stiff. I can eat with intention instead of frustration. I can show up for myself on the days when progress is invisible. And I can remind myself that discipline is not about intensity—it’s about consistency.
This weight is not a failure.
It’s not a character flaw.
It’s simply the residue of a fight I didn’t ask for but showed up to anyway.
And if it takes me a year to lose it, or two, or more, that doesn’t change who I am. What matters is that I’m moving forward. What matters is that I’m rebuilding a life that feels strong, honest, and mine again.
If you’re carrying the same weight—literally or figuratively—you’re not alone. ADT takes a lot from us. But it doesn’t get the final say. We do.
One steady step at a time.