CAPTAIN'S BLOG
A Temporary TripSo now here we are, a week later, the first Friday after that bullshit. I’m just about to smoke a joint after what some people might consider the longest two weeks of their lives, when it’s dinnertime. Ah, perfect. I’ll get started after dinner. We have our somewhat usual sniping dinner session - I’m not contributing enough around the house, do the dishes sooner, blah blah blah. She’s right, but I’m seriously burned out from life at this point. All I have to look forward to is the joint I get to smoke when I get home from work, and at this point, it’s been like that for what feels like a lifetime for me. And now I’ve just gone through a breakup, after being single for 9 years. Basically, fuck everything. After dinner, Mum helps move everything back to normal in my room. We decide to rotate the room 90 degrees, so my desk is under the window in summer to get the nice breeze and fresh air. Also, maybe I’ll be able to sneak a smoke or two out there.
It will later turn out that I cannot, but that’s not a very interesting story. I sit back in my chair, tired from the exertion, and grab my joint. It’s 8PM. I should take the mushrooms right away, so I lay out the mushroom chocolates. Four of them, each containing 2 grams, I was told. 8 Grams Total. It’s gonna be fun! Hopefully, I’ll get visuals! But, I hate chocolate, and I hate mushrooms even more, so I decide to make a chocolate milkshake, which I hate slightly less. Unfortunately, there’s so much chocolate, that it tastes more like chocolate syrup. Not a good start, but we’re freaking doing this goddamnit, so into a glass it all goes. And, sure enough, it’s a fairly unpleasant mixture - sort of a cardboard taste from the dried mushrooms and a grainy texture from the cheap, hard-to-melt-chocolate - but it’s still better than the chocolates themselves, if only just, thanks to lifegiving milk. I drink as much as I can - I get about 2/3rds of the way before I need to take a break. Ugh. Way too much chocolate. My stomach feels gross. This had better work. Then, it’s time to jump in the shower. For no particular reason, I decide to shave my entire body. Well, except my head, of course. Already did that once - no need to try again. Upon discovery of the joy of hairless legs for the first time, my mind practically explodes. What a glorious feeling! Rubbing them together like a giant pink grasshopper in the shower, a smile plastered across my face, I feel a little silly for a moment, eliciting a boisterous laugh from me in the shower. It suddenly occurs to me - Oh! I must be tripping! Thank goodness. That would have been a strange moment otherwise. I stand up carefully, but I don’t see any visuals. I don’t feel so different at all anymore, actually. Am I tripping? I get out of the shower, which I set to way too hot at the end, and I gasp my way outside with a joint, lying down on the cool night time concrete, my bare skin and shaved legs standing on end from the changed sensation. Still no mushrooms yet, I think to myself. I fire up the joint, while looking at the stars. Damn. I kinda wish Jackie was here. Ugh. She wouldn’t understand though. She doesn’t “do drugs” but she smokes tobacco and drinks like a fish. Pah. I start thinking about our relationship, and the whirlwind of the last couple of weeks with her. It’s a shame it went the way it did, but it probably had to go that way. I misrepresented myself and what I wanted and what I was willing to give. I need someone who is sexually dominant. And it would be really cool if they were into pegging - maybe it’s time I agree with myself that I really want to try that. I’d have to try it before I married someone, I think. I wonder what it’s like? I’ve experimented with myself before, but to be at someone else’s whim? To be used for another’s pleasure? To be the focus of their attention, my pleasure their paramount concern? As I lay there, imagining at last what I truly want my love life to be like, I see a shooting star. I thought about my past, bubbling up behind my eyes for what felt like hours, but was only a few minutes, wondering where I went wrong. What is it that brought me to this moment? When will I be happy? What does that future look like? Will I ever have a wife? Kids? Will I ever find love? Will I ever know what it is like to be sexually satisfied? To be satisfied with the rest of life? To not hate waking up? As the chill of the night takes hold, I decide it’s time to head back inside and listen to some music. An hour and a half later, and I was tripping harder than I ever had. My desktop backgrounds - always some kind of barely-appropriately-clad female had funny edges swirling with tattooed breasts undulating in strange ways. I was happy to just sit and think in my chair while I rolled joints, went outside, and smoked them. While rolling, I’d do a little bit of everything: roll a quarter of the joint, type in a quarter of a web address, scroll a quarter of the way down the page, then roll another quarter of the joint, in a cycle. My ADHD liked to assert itself at that time - each of them a series of oh that’s right moments: I stopped rolling the joint to get a good webpage which I have to look for to read and oh where was I oh there it was now where’s the joint oh it fell apart now where was I? and so on until the joint does get rolled or the website gets scrolled and clicked in the right way. While scrolling, I came across a reddit post called “What Is Your Single Greatest Regret?”. Many amazing posts were contained within, and I got to one in particular that said “I wish I was a small, petite girl. Unfortunately, I’m a 6” 4’ linebacker with giant hands, so I can’t really ever be that person. It breaks my heart knowing I’ll never be a petite little girl like I’ve always wanted.” I raised my glass - I got wine at some point, when did that happen? - and said “fuckin’ right”. And I looked at my hands, and I thought you know, they didn’t look that big. They’re kinda feminine. And there were tons of positive responses, saying all kinds of encouraging things. And then came the progression photos. Some of these girls were amazing. The transformations... they were incredible! Ugly men becoming beautiful women, living happy lives as convincing women. Wonderful stories of finding love after a lifetime of heartache. It was possible to be born a man, and still become a beautiful, happy, fulfilled woman. So, well, ok then. And these people are called transgender(ed) people, I learned for the first time. Male to female, in my case. MtF in the nomenclature. After opening about a hundred tabs and reading them all in what seemed like moments, I knew it was true: I didn’t just think about how much I would rather be a woman because it was fun to think about, it’s because I seriously would much rather be a woman. A smile tore its way across my face. Irresistible - infectious. A smile of pure joy. That was it, wasn’t it. In tears of joy, I wrote a letter to my ex girlfriend and eternal-at-the-time confidant, Mina. It’s hard to write on mushrooms, but I managed to get the message to her, and she offered some limited help to start. A few days later, I told my lesbian drug dealers. They gave me some awful looking female clothes, but they fit me, including a bra that gave me some pretty sweet titties. I went outside for a smoke in a dress with my bra on for the first time a few days after, in the middle of the night. It was good. Very good. It was becoming time to tell everyone. Including my mother, which was going to be... interesting. But I wanted to be sure first. And I didn’t want to try hormones yet - that seemed like a step too far for a revelation that came to me while tripping on a quarter of mushrooms. And as I thought about it, I realized I wanted to know if I would enjoy sex as a woman - because I didn’t enjoy it as a man. And sex is super important to me - I realized I had never really made love before, despite having plenty of sex with girlfriends. What was it like to feel sexy, wanted, attractive, and lusted after? This whole idea of being a strong man, it’s just not how I feel. Ever. And certainly not when I’m naked with the person I love, when I want to be the person who I really am more than anything. So what is a single girl to do? Pay for it, that’s what. ---------------------- This content is entirely the property of the owner and creator, all rights reserved. Please feel free to contact [email protected]. I am currently looking for a publisher.
2 Comments
Christina
6/17/2015 07:08:33 am
It was a very cool trip indeed :)
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AuthorChristina Hitchens is a trans female writer living in BC, Canada. She loves computers, animals, and a good argument. Archives
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