Hormone therapy is supposed to give you nice skin, a perkier outlook, and the general appearance and zest for life of a woman ten years younger - and still up for it. I think it also heightens your ability to feel - not just emotionally (although those tears of joy, or longing, or sadness, or relief come oh so easily), but sensually. I clearly speak for myself here; but my goodness, hormone therapy has definitely ratcheted up my sense of touch - and of being touched!
I'm not at this point going to confess to some body-jangling awakening at the hands of a lover. There is no such person in my life, and you may know my views already on why I am adamant that there will not be. Surrender to the gentle but firm touch of another person would spell disaster for my carefree independent existence, and I treasure my freedom above all else. But I certainly do acknowledge that even at my age sex is there for the asking. And every day those hormones are subtly pushing my flesh into a nicer shape, toning my skin just that little bit better, and rewiring my brain to make me receptive (I might even say alert) to anyone who shows the faintest spark of interest.
It sounds as if I secretly want to play with fire, but am holding myself back on some principle. Maybe that's true. But whether I plunge in or turn away, it's my life: I insist on calling the shots, and all choices (except serious illness, if that comes) are in my hands and will stay there. I'm a very stubborn and single-minded person when I want to be. My experiences in the last few years have only reinforced my assertiveness, my ability to thrive without assistance, and my will to go it alone. And cheerfully too, singing as I push on.
All that said, I can't resist the gradual physical and mental changes that hormone therapy continues to impose on me. I'm pretty sure that some of these will undermine or compromise that iron will! A friend of mine - a person just like me - has found love, and gets remarried shortly. I thought this was fantastically good news. It was surprisingly uplifting to me, as if it were proof that anything, absolutely anything, can happen - and does happen. You have only to really want it. Clearly, nothing can be ruled out in the future! And one should never say 'never'.
Back to those changes. (I must be an expert at throwing a thousand words at something that could be expressed in a short sentence!) What do I consider to be 'the most sensual thing', given that I don't enjoy a sex life of any sort?
Well, I'll tell you: having a hot shower. As soon as the water begins to play on my shoulders and neck I get sensation overload. Every time. Enough to make me gasp and groan with pleasure in the privacy of my own bathroom. It's absolutely delightful - and never experienced in my pre-hormone life. My nerve-endings have clearly had a major refit, and can boost any touch-signals to brain-popping levels. It's very hard not to cry out.
When I'm caravanning, and staying at a Caravan Club site, I make free use of the excellent showers usually on offer. Many other users of these facilities are - shall we say - of mature age, and accustomed to the vocal self-control typical of their generation. It's difficult to keep that in mind as the hot water thrashes my shoulders and neck! I suppose a succession of ecstatic noises from yours truly wouldn't really amount to a scandal, but it would certainly excite curiosity, an interested little crowd, and I prefer to remain discreet.
Right. Explicit sensual disclosure over. Move along now.