When I started my solo trip on a Sunday at 11:00am with two tabs of acid and a house to myself, my goal was a journey of self love. I have always avoided mirrors on acid; my own face contorted by hallucinations always caused a mid-trip panic attack if I happened to pass a reflective surface.
I have also always been a little afraid of my own genitals; genitals in general I found to be a bit off-putting, no matter who they belonged to. Penises, vaginas, and especially buttholes. In the heat of the moment, function conquered aesthetics and I would dive right in, but going about my day I always had the pervasive feeling that everything hidden by my underwear was a grotesque sight. Many of my friends had the same feeling about their buttholes.
From a college roommate I heard, “I’m afraid to do doggy-style because I’m self conscious about my asshole. I don’t want him to just stare at it!”
At a highschool sleepover where we were showering together, “Ugh your vagina is so much cuter than mine. My labia folds are huge.”
What even makes a CUTE vagina? No doubt trends set by the men who control the pornography industry have some large say in which genitals we deem beautiful and which we do not, but regardless, a staggering number of people, no matter what they’re working with, are deeply uncomfortable with their own privates. It makes sense; we’re taught from birth for good reason that no one should see them or touch them. But that ideology goes further than preventing other people from seeing or touching our genitals; it convinces many that they shouldn’t get too cozy with their own either. For the longest time, I was one of these people.
I didn’t even masturbate until well into college. I just thought touching my own vagina was pretty gross, and even now I prefer toys. This is an extra wild phenomenon when you consider the fact that I am a lesbian. Why did I love the sight of all vaginas except my own? I could eat a woman’s asshole out for 20 minutes and love it, but I couldn’t even look at my own asshole in a mirror without cringing.
There were a lot of parts of myself I wasn’t too comfortable with, and I think hating my genitals was a natural extension of how the mainstream media had taught me to hate so many other parts of my body over the years. The stretch marks, the folds, the hair, the wrinkles, the moles, the little bumps. If Barbie doesn’t have it it’s ugly and abnormal and gross.
So I usually avoided mirrors on acid. But this time, I was ready. I sat down with a fresh face in front of the large mirror doors of my closet. I stared and stared while the acid slowly kicked in. As it got stronger, and my reality stripped away, I lost sense of what eactly I was staring at. It became disconnected; who was this being? She was… hot. Beautiful, even. And best of all she looked incredibly kind. She was… my soulmate. She was perfect. I inched closer to reach out to her and my hands touched the glass. Like Narcissus before me, I had fallen in love with myself. Yet it wasn’t selfish; it was long overdue. Instead of cringing at my face, seeing only my flaws because the capitalists that run media and advertising companies want me to feel ugly, I saw the most beautiful creature I’d ever seen. I legitimately leaned forward and kissed myself.
Detail from Echo and Narcissus by John William Waterhouse (1903)
Source: Walker Art Gallery/Public Domain
I then became extremely horny. I spread my legs in front of the mirror and stared. It was soft, sweet, and flowing.
Shimmying onto my back: I tackled the Final Boss. On two tabs of potent LSD, I stared my asshole down the barrel.
There was some fuzz, a bunch of tiny wrinkles. Not gonna front; the skin browned a bit towards the center. But honestly? It was pretty fucking cute. If this was the worst, ugliest, and most private part of my sinful body, then I could fucking handle that!
I sat up and took it all in with the rest of my body. I locked eyes with myself and passionately masturbated to my image. She was radiating rainbow lightwaves and she was rippling sexual prowess; because at the end of the day, gays do have this one privilege. I’m not sure it would have been as easy or as pleasing for a straight person to masturbate to themselves, though I imagine it would have still been as insightful.
After a while I grew tired and decided to curl up with myself in bed for a cuddle.
24 years on this earth, from the time I was born, I had learned to fear what I kept between my legs. I had also learned to criticize whatever I saw in the mirror. I was a woman forever on a quest to eliminate pores entirely! My entire life I had long hair. My hair was not only a security blanket of femininity but a shield for my least confident days. In the middle of my trip, while I was staring at my face in the mirror, I looked into my eyes and realized that I wanted to cut all of my hair off. I didn’t need it anymore. I loved my face and no longer wanted to hide it. And now I’ve been rocking short hair ever since, living my best lesbian life. I don’t plan on going back.
So all in all, 10/10, would recommend this trip on TripAdviser. 5 stars. Will be coming back!