Sitting in the dentist’s chair is no one’s idea of fun – especially when you’re 57 and you smoked cigarettes and chewed gum for years, as I did.

So during a recent check-up, when my 30-something male dentist said he wanted to talk to me about a tooth I’d lost, I was fully prepared for a lecture.

What I didn’t expect was to be curtly told that the lost tooth wouldn’t have happened if only I’d taken HRT.

During a check-up, a male dentist said HRT pills (pictured) would have prevented the loss of a tooth

He was almost evangelical about the power of these drugs for women ‘like you’, saying they could make my teeth and gums healthier.

I said I wasn’t interested, and that I’m sure my own unhealthy lifestyle choices are really to blame for the lost tooth. He just kept on about why I should reconsider.

As he talked, I took stock. Here was a young man – amply qualified yes, yet young enough to be my son – who was an NHS dentist, not a doctor, telling me what I should be putting into my body. Imagine if I’d pointed out his receding hairline and asked if he’d had his testosterone levels checked.

Yes, there are studies that show women taking HRT may have lower rates of gum disease. But while there might be a discussion to be had, current NHS guidelines state it’s always my choice whether I want to take it.

And I have no intention of doing so. Far less do I want to be repeatedly hectored, after I have made my decision clear.

I’ve been post-menopausal for five years. I didn’t take any medication to get me to this point. I go to the gym three times a week, eat healthily and gave up smoking two years ago.

Yet it’s not just my dentist pushing me to take HRT. There’s pressure from my GP, targeted online ads, even conversation with friends who see me as stubborn. I know some secretly think I am showing off when I say I don’t take it.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m very glad this treatment – which helps so many women – is now widely available. I applaud the work of HRT campaigners, and fully support any woman who chooses to take it.

But blindly pushing it at all women, while turning a deaf ear to our preferences, is lazy and unhelpful. No wonder half of women believe the NHS treats our health as a ‘second-class issue’, according to a poll this week.

I suspect we’ll look back and feel sorry for Gen X women – that’s those of us now aged 44 to 59 – caught in the middle of this HRT revolution.

Once, we were unfairly shamed for taking it. Now if you don’t, you are the outlier. While the drug has been on the market since 1965, over the past decade it has become a huge cultural talking point.

To some extent, that’s thanks to celebrities talking about its life-changing properties, as much as any medical advance.

In 2015, only 3million HRT-related items were prescribed (the most common being oestrogen). During the 2022/2023 financial year, that number had risen to 11million.

I admit, I see not taking HRT as a badge of honour. Here I am in the prime of my life; my blood pressure is fine, I don’t get hot flushes, I don’t have any issues having sex. I have gained some weight since I gave up smoking – I used cigarettes as an appetite suppressant – but at 5ft 10ins and a size 16 I don’t feel I have much to worry about.

So why, when there is apparently a shortage of HRT, are NHS employees constantly telling me I should be on it?

The first time, I was 47 and I had made an appointment to see my GP about a persistent ear infection. He began the conversation by talking about how I was looking ‘tired’ and … perhaps I should consider it?

There was no discussion about the potential health risks – for example, he didn’t ask if my family has a history of breast cancer. (HRT can slightly increase the risk of hormone-related cancers, including some breast cancer.) He just told me frankly that in his view, every woman should be taking HRT.

When I said no thank you, he didn’t stop. Instead, he repeatedly brought up the risk of vaginal atrophy. The way he spoke about my body was so personal, I felt very vulnerable.

Of course, it’s important for women to know about this risk. One medical study found that 36.8 per cent of women aged 40 to 55 had symptoms of vaginal atrophy. But the way he spoke about it felt like bullying. I was left with the impression that I had to do what he said – or else pay severe health consequences.

I’ve since discovered I’m not the only woman he has made cry over taking HRT. If I hadn’t been so upset, I would have complained.

Emma Parsons-Reid was encouraged to take HRT

It’s true that I was perimenopausal at the time. This period of hormonal disruption had started a year earlier, when I was 46. The first symptoms were hot flushes at night in bed. I’d only be able to get to sleep with a flannel on my head.

Then there was weight gain, stress, periods that were heavier and closer together. Until then I’d always had a healthy and active sex life with my husband Kevin, now 63. Suddenly we were averaging sex two times a month – and, if I’m brutally honest, that was just to stop Kev being miserable about a lack of it.

I would get tearful and anxious about the smallest of things.

I’m not a fool, I did look into HRT and how it could help me. But after careful consideration, I decided it wasn’t for me. I don’t like taking medication I don’t need, preferring to trust my body. I never took the contraceptive pill, either.

There are always side-effects when you take a medication. I’m just exercising my right (and trusting my intuition) in declining to do so.

I can absolutely understand why my doctor might have suggested HRT during those difficult years. But after I’d firmly said no, and made clear that my choice was an informed one, I cannot believe how hard my local surgery continued to push me on the topic.

I decided life would be easier if I avoided seeing the male GP who’d been so adamant about HRT. So when, a couple of years later, I had a broken toe, I saw a female GP in the same practice. I was floored by her attitude too: she really took me to task over my refusal to take HRT.

I politely told her I knew the pros and cons but wasn’t interested – in response, she started going on about my risk of osteoporosis. I had never previously broken a bone as an adult, but on this occasion I’d managed to stub my toe violently while doing DIY, so I really didn’t feel that was relevant.

She was so persistent that in the end, I came away with a prescription for a combined oestrogen and progesterone HRT item.

Even today I can’t believe I allowed her to browbeat me like that. As soon as I got home I popped it in the bin.

It’s not that I’m anti-medicine. But taking medication should always be a choice. Personally, I treated ‘the change’ as a time to overhaul my unhealthy habits, working out how best to embrace this next part of my life. I didn’t want to spend the rest of my days blaming my absent mindedness on ‘meno-fog’ or my excess pounds on ‘meno-fat’ when there was so much I could do about it.

So I quit smoking and started working out regularly – I have met a close circle of women around my age as a result, friends I treasure. I started taking a daily magnesium supplement, and treated myself to a fortnightly reflexology session which I believe helped balance my mood.

Even so, the first year after my periods stopped altogether at 53 was awful, as my body adjusted to my new lower hormone levels.

Yet by 54, I was through the menopause – and three years later, I feel great. I’m lucky that I took early retirement from the civil service ten years ago, which allows me to be a present mum for my daughter Hannah, 34, and my five granddaughters aged between seven and 17. I feel useful and needed doing the school runs and helping out.

My sex life with Kev is back, and better than it ever was. We’re intimate at least twice a week.

I’ve got more energy too. Everything just seems better. If I have an occasional hot flush, I know perfectly well it’s down to the slab of chocolate or glass of red wine I had the night before.

I’d never suggest anyone stop taking HRT if it works for them – but I do want my doctors (and dentist) to respect my choice to leave it well alone.

As told to Samantha Brick