Phoenix Fights

Fighting the FEAR, depression and BDP on a daily basis AND making my own bread. Bring it on 2016….


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SCARY MAN JUICE AT LARGE!

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Apologies for the Facebook style brevity of this post but I just had to share!

Whilst trying to squeeze the last bit of Scary Man Juice (aka testosterone) from it’s tube this morning, after five minutes of struggle, I resorted to bending the flattened body towards the metal cap and pushing hard.

This resulted in it spurting out of the cap, and with startling velocity, hitting the bathroom window with a SPLAT!

I don’t know, you know what they say, you can take the juice out of the man……..I’ll let you fill in the rest….

I’m just pleased it didn’t go in my eye, or, worse still, on the head of my toothbrush….. 😉

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BABY WHEN THE LIGHTS GO OUT – MOJO RISIN’ UPDATE 2

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So, I’m still applying Scary Man juice (testosterone gel) to try and hot wire my libido back to it’s former glory.

The good news is I haven’t grown a moustache :-).

The bad news is that I’m not getting any real urges down below to spontaneously follow up on :-(.

Take last night for instance. I went to a Latin American style dance show with a friend. We had great seats so were only about five rows from the stage. The dancers were fantastic and had amazing bodies. The men were largely topless and I could smell fresh male sweat in abundance, something that always used to give me something of a high.

So did this get me off? No. I watched unaroused, smiling indulgently like a proud nana as these ripped gods shimmied past me as they sambaed down the aisle before intermission, whilst simultaneous analysing their physiques in my head (the ex personal trainer in me) as they passed.

‘Great delts, has neglected his triceps though…that one’s a little lean, needs to develop his traps……Bar body! Do something with your legs sweetie, you look like Johnny Bravo…..yup, practically perfect in every way, which reminds me, I must take up dancing again…..’

The question is, if these magnificent specimens don’t float my boat, is a man closer to my age going to be able to?

So, I left shaken (forty dancers jumping around does that in an old rickety London theatre) but not stirred.

Which is probably all for the best as far as they were concerned, as no one likes to see a lecherous old woman drooling over chicken unless it’s with her Sunday roast covered in gravy.

So then, if it is the case that I’m no longer aroused by young men, how is it that instead of going to bed at a reasonable hour last night, I spent a good hour, maybe even two, watching videos of the boy band 5ive performing their hits on You Tube?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=egZl1IyHOqk

And that’s not the worst of it. I wasn’t watching them as they are now on the Big Reunion i.e. in their thirties. That would be bad enough. No, I was watching clips of them from about fifteen years ago, at the height of their fame, when they couldn’t have been older than, erm…. 22?

God, WHAT IS THE DEAL HERE? I tell you something, I don’t embarrass easily, but I’m actually blushing from sheer unadulterated shame whilst typing this….

There have been times when I have really wanted to share my blog with various people in my life, but today I am fervently grateful that no one knows who I am as this is so cringe worthy! My friends would give me major shit if they knew about this (I can just hear them shrieking ‘Ohhh, young man!!’) and I would bloody well deserve it.

Please believe me when I tell you that despite how this appears, I was not turned on whilst watching this footage. Honestly. Why would I lie? At the height of their fame, I wasn’t in the slightest bit interested in 5ive. They were, and are little boys when compared to me as far as I’m concerned.

But I did feel something. A couple of members of the band would have been my thing when I was a teenager (ruggedly handsome rough diamonds for anyone who doesn’t know who they are) so this was probably part of the reason I was watching them instead of, say, Take That.

The more I think about it, whilst I was kind of marvelling at their beauty, sexual pungency, sheer vitality and potential, there was also a sadness, an element of mourning to it I think.

It was kind of like saying goodbye.

It also felt eerily familiar. Have I been in this place before? Is there such a thing as reincarnation? If there is then please God let my next life be one without depression where I could look at my 19 year old self, if not with love and admiration, then not with hate and loathing, and look at boys such as these and think ‘I am as worthy of this person as he is of me’. Because right now, in the world as I know it, there is no going back and living this life again, no chance to see boys as friends not enemies, and no chance to believe in young love and all the enrichment it brings.

Sigh.

As for the state of play re my orgasm, I still have no urge to masturbate and only do it once a week if I remember, rather like going for a run on a Sunday morning to get the papers. But the last time I did it (it was not last night, I swear) it was the same as last time.

Using motor racing terms, it was pretty much 0-60 in a matter of seconds, flying past the chequered flag at record breaking speed, a bit of a buzz, a thrumming engine I couldn’t turn off, so nothing worth getting RSI of the wrist for.

This is the point where I could very easily pull out of the race, bail on this project and forget all about jiggy jiggy, but there is one thing that I haven’t tested yet.

I haven’t been close to a real live man of my own age (as in on a date) for a good year or so, so actual erotic interaction with a real life specimen might be a different thing entirely.

You know I told you that I’d rejoined that online dating site? And had two guys contact me? And I swore I’d get back to them?

I lied. I didn’t :-(. Sorreee…

But I will. Today. Well they’ve probably buggered off by now, but I will interact and be open to meeting someone on there. For experimental purposes only.

I was also told by a very reliable source that marijuana is very good for helping the medically impeded climax, so I’m off to see a man about a dog, let’s hope I don’t get arrested….

Bye for now!


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MRS MOJO RISIN’……

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So just to update you on my Scary Man Juice (aka testosterone gel) treatment, since applying it (albeit tiny amounts as I am fwightened) I have, of late, felt something of a stirring down there……

I’ve also had strange, random, erotic dreams, (which, you will be relieved to hear, I will not go into on here) and, as I can’t blame my usual mixing alcohol with my meds habit, I think it’s fair to say something is happening.

So whilst I wouldn’t go as far as to say I feel horny, last night I had a bit of a tingle, and as I couldn’t get to sleep, I decided to have a play and see if my orgasm was working again.  For the sole purpose of reporting back in this blog of course……

Please don’t close this page, this isn’t going to be some female porno wankfest, I promise!

So  initial signs were promising.  Arousal was swift and it was fair to say that pretty much from the onset it felt like orgasm was only seconds and a slightly firmer stroke away.  But, again for science purposes only 🙂 , I dragged it out as long as possible, hoping for a better return as it were.

The overall sensation stayed the same.  Very intense, almost peri climatic, but pretty much ‘Get on with it, I’m ready to go here!’ rather than the slow, steady, gradual but amazingly rewarding journey I was used to.  So as soon as I realised this, I listened up and went for it, hoping for a glorious return to the heaven I once knew and loved.

Hmmm.

OK, if I’d never had a proper orgasm before, I might have thought this was fantastic.  But I have.  So I didn’t.  ‘Cos it wasn’t.

Let’s use the Rollercoaster analogy again.

If my real orgasm was a rip roaring, ride of thrills, spills and excitement with lots of different levels, dips and climbs that once it got started, seemed as it it would never end, until eventually, breathless, exhausted, totally satiated, you just  had to come down before you passed out?

An my pre Scary Man juice orgasm was an ancient old rollercoaster where the rusty old car slowly and painfully chugged to the top of the lowest peak, then, just when you thought it might make it over, it rattled, creaked, groaned and broke down leaving you stuck, totally dissatisfied and wishing you’d never got on the damn thing in the first place?

In this orgasm the car raced you to the top so fast you almost got a nose bleed, then just as you hit the peak, and almost flew over, it then ran out of gas, hissed as the tyres deflated then slid slowly into the dip below and stayed there.  Rocking, throbbing and humming annoyingly.

In sum, ‘It’s an orgasm Jim, but not as we know it.’ 😦 😦

And it might be enough, if a nice big willy slid in there afterwards and added a whole new dimension to the experience, but as it is I’m just left squirming and arching, trying to rid myself of an unsatisfied throb/burn that didn’t abate for a good half hour or so.  Grrr.

So, on the plus side, things seem to be going in the right direction.

But riding solo?  No go.

Never was a woman, so alone, so alone 😦

I don’t normally request comments, but please if there are any peri or postmenopausal women reading this I’d love to know how you are faring when it comes to the Big ‘O’?

Also, anyone whose anti depressants or other meds are affecting them?

In the meantime, I’m off out to buy some shoes, get some Haagan Dazs, and punch a passing traffic warden or something.

Over and out.