Perimenopause destroyed my sex drive and HRT was useless. Then, one specialist gave me a simple cure that fixed my problem overnight. Most women haven’t heard of it… here’s what you must tell your doctor

I woke up one morning in my mid-forties and realized something fundamental had changed in my body.

I hadn’t liked anyone in a long time, and the thought of seeing my occasional boyfriend later that day made me anxious.

Overnight, any instinct for physical closeness or intimacy was gone. This was not a fall or a wobble; It was as if a switch had been pressed, both mentally and physically.

I felt numb from the waist down. It was as if my real body was taken away from me while I was sleeping. Yet I always had a healthy libido; Even though it is not at the center of my life.

At that time, I was seeing someone who was suitable for both of us; a meeting of bodies rather than a meeting of minds. Ours was a relationship built on chemistry and physical pleasure rather than commitment and conversation, and it worked.

I needed to see him; I was supposed to have dinner, watch a movie, and then go back to his apartment as usual. It should feel easy and familiar. Instead I found myself making excuses and silently dreading it.

Because the idea of ​​undressing, of being physically exposed in this way, suddenly felt completely foreign; It’s like I’ve been dropped back into a pre-adolescent version of myself, awkward and disconnected from my own body.

It wasn’t about him. It was as if the entire frame had vanished; instinct, comfort, feeling of wanting. And I didn’t recognize myself in this version at all.

I now know that libido is a delicate mix of hormones, imagination, and blood flow. Take one and the whole system collapses.

‘If you want to regain libido, you need estrogen, progesterone and testosterone,’ a gynecologist told me (picture taken by model)

I made excuses to avoid date night for a few weeks and went to my doctor for advice. He was polite, but his first question was whether I was married or in a long-term relationship, as if it only affected one partner it became a priority.

Shockingly, blood tests confirmed I was ‘moderately perimenopausal’ and I was prescribed HRT, a standard combination of estrogen and progesterone tablets.

The more I read about perimenopause, the more everything started to fall into place; It’s no wonder I have trouble falling asleep naturally at night, often relying on over-the-counter sleep aids. I too had noticed lighter periods and thinning hair, but I attributed these changes simply to aging. After all, I still felt fit and young; I was addicted to my daily 5km runs.

You see, I had no idea that symptoms could start up to ten years before menopause. I felt a surge of anger. Why hasn’t anyone explained this properly before?

There was also a quieter fear: What if tablets weren’t enough? What if this unconventional version of my body is here to stay?

My friends and I assumed we would hit menopause in our 50s; We didn’t realize you were sneaking in, and before you know it, you become someone else.

In our 40s, we slowly realized that we rarely giggled at dating app pictures or shared sex-related notes anymore. We just assumed we were going soft.

My mother and I never discussed ‘life change’ – and it wasn’t explained properly in those weird ‘facts of life’ lessons at school either.

A few weeks after I started taking HRT tablets nothing changed. And there are only so many excuses you can make. So I did what countless women before me had done: I went to my man’s house, played the part, and tried to ease myself back into something that used to come naturally.

Without telling him, as we stood close to each other, I silently wondered if this pathetic charade would continue like this for the rest of my life.

My doctor, who learned that the tablets were not working, referred me to a specialist. I imagined this meant I was going to a menopause clinic and this was very encouraging. Instead I arrived at St Mary’s Hospital in West London and was referred to the sexual dysfunction clinic.

The waiting room was gloomy; plastic chairs, unwelcoming lights, and the kind of embarrassing silence you only find in places where no one wants to make eye contact. There were mostly middle-aged men pretending to read worn-out copies of magazines. Faded posters about erectile dysfunction curled on the walls; There was nothing about menopause or decreased female libido.

My advisor, a spiky-haired woman in her 40s, was lively but curious. He listened carefully, but I felt a hint of skepticism, as if he wasn’t quite sure why my numb body warranted this level of concern.

My friends and I assumed we would hit menopause in our 50s; We didn’t realize you were sneaking in – and before you know it, you’re someone else, writes Rachael

Within 24 hours of applying the testosterone gel I felt a spark return. “It was like I had a tingling sensation throughout my body and had a restless night because I felt energetic,” she says.

He acknowledged that my blood tests confirmed that I was in perimenopause, but refused to link this to my sudden loss of sex drive.

Her face lit up when I told her that I was fit, healthy and taking spin classes. “That’s it,” he said. ‘I’m guessing you overdid the spinning and the bike seat damaged the nerves. You’ll have to give it up.’

The idea that I was pedaling my libido to death was almost funny, but it wasn’t. Felt like gaslighting. And coming from a female consultant, it’s a stark reminder that medical misogyny isn’t always perpetrated by men.

Ultimately, it was my Botox practitioner who offered to read my blood results and make sense of them. “You’re definitely in perimenopause,” she said, squeezing my arm affectionately. ‘I would really recommend seeing a private gynecologist and getting appropriate support.’

I did the research and found Professor John Studd, one of Harley Street’s most famous gynecologists, a pioneer of menopause treatment, who died in 2021. He was in his advanced years when we met him in 2018, with a no-nonsense, almost grandfatherly demeanor. He’s the kind of guy you’d expect to pull out an antique fob watch.

He listened to my story and sent me for a bone scan.

The results were alarming. I had unusually advanced osteopenia in my hips; This was a clear indicator, along with blood tests that showed my sex hormones had dropped significantly. This was also a serious health problem that the NHS did not bother to investigate.

Loss of bone density is common as women approach menopause; Data from the NHS shows that around half of women over 50 are affected by low bone density. But it’s much less typical to see such advanced changes in someone in their mid-40s, which makes my diagnosis unusual.

“You must be of Irish descent,” Professor Studd said, placing my glasses on his nose and flipping through my scans. ‘Early osteopenia is common in Irish women.’

‘No, I’m not,’ I replied.

“Of course you are, ask your mother,” he exclaimed with a slight smile.

A DNA test later proved he was right; My bones and tissues were 80 percent Irish-British. And it turns out that rates of low bone density are relatively high in Ireland and increase rapidly from middle age.

Then came the turning point.

“If you want to restore libido, you need estrogen, progesterone and testosterone,” said Professor Studd, rubbing his hands like a magician.

Unlike the tablets I was given, the estrogen gel he recommended was absorbed directly through the skin, allowing a more constant dose of the hormone to reach the bloodstream. It was explained to me that the new HRT blend would help prevent possible sleep problems, mood disorders and hot flashes, but it was the testosterone that would really help strengthen my bones and sexual desire.

Within 24 hours of applying the testosterone gel I felt a spark return. It was like there was a tingling sensation throughout my body and I was having a restless night because I felt full of energy.

Within a few days, I wanted to move more, flirt, create, laugh more. It was like remembering a language I once spoke fluently but suddenly forgot.

And yet most women never get that chance. The NHS technically allows testosterone prescriptions for menopause-related loss of libido, but most GPs (including mine) still don’t offer it.

So we have to pay up to £80 to order the bottle from a specialist online pharmacy and hope it’s real. By the way, Viagra can be purchased from supermarkets for the price of a sandwich.

It turns out that for me, testosterone was the missing piece. It didn’t transform me into a different woman; it gave me back a recognizable version of the person I used to be; version of himself that felt plausibly connected to his own body.

The real test came the next time I went to see my man.

As soon as the door closed, I couldn’t fully throw myself at it, but I still felt a sense of lightness and trust. The awkwardness had diminished.

The funniest part? He didn’t realize anything was really wrong. My gymnastics performance in those weeks was certainly more convincing than I gave myself credit for.

But I knew. The difference was clearly visible not only in my body but also in my mind. And that was comforting more than anything.