Patience = Success

Part 3

Is being "transgender" a phase, a current fad, or did you know it all along?

This is a very important question and one that can be answered with the utmost sincerity.  After all, I have nothing to hide and nothing to be ashamed of.  The only thing I may be ashamed of is having been born in the wrong body and being treated in a way that does not match what I expect from life.  That in itself is toxic and needs to be detoxified because the very nature ruins your spirit and your desire to live.  NO, I did not declare myself transgender because I envy those who claim to be, not because it is the "in" thing, not because I desire to get attention, not to hide being gay, and definitely not because I am going through an "identity crisis".  It took me many years to come to terms with this so-called "condition" which is nothing but a state of being and a legitimate frame of mind.  I had issues with the term at first and it troubled me.  While I prefer to state this as my blog headline description states: "Put simply, I am a transgender woman and proud of it", in all honesty I AM A WOMAN!  There is no doubt and no turning back.  Thirty-nine years of suffering can end simply by stating the fact and experiencing the reality because I was never happy with myself to begin with.  This little "boy" was always a girl, and Jantzen was always Jessica.  Even my legal name sounds feminine and has been misconstrued so many times.  But rather than use my legal name after having been told it sounds feminine, I would rather use another name which has its own meaning in my personal life.  It is only now at 4 months (as I write this blog snippet) from turning the big four 'O' that I decide that I need to address this issue once and for all even if it offends the very few people that know me.  I have little to no friends and it is mainly attributed to not addressing this issue earlier.

Being transgender is one of those things that you just "know" because everything in your surroundings affects you in a specific way.  It is a constant battle to defend your honor, define your character, and discover your true identity.  We in life need to stand up for ourselves and our beliefs, as well as for those whom we love, but we cannot defend anyone or anything unless our character is well formed.  It is easy for most people to define themselves as man or woman and accept themselves, despite growing pains and "stages".  While that is fine and dandy for most, it is a struggle for many of us because our brains and our hearts cannot accept things which we cannot process that easily.  Tough love and deprogramming only make a person more bitter and resentful, and it may explain why those who do not have the courage to stand up for themselves commit suicide.  Going back to the question, I knew from as early as the age of 3 that there were some things I like and others that I disliked:

I liked: wearing long hair, watching Mom put on lipstick (she hardly wore makeup and still does not need any because her complexion is so beautiful), playing cooperatively, being in touch with soft things and scents such as teddy bears, blankets, perfume, flowers, being talked to sweetly, talking sweetly and being inquisitive, colors such as pink, violet, dolls (especially Barbies), cooking and tea sets, dresses, etc.  When I watched TV I would emulate the female models or actresses in how they walked, talked, gestured, wore their clothing and hair, and I specifically loved watching Revlon and other makeup commercials.  I loved skirts and high heels, and watching Mom dress inspired me, in the way she coordinated her clothes and her purses with her shoes, jewelry, other accessories (yes she is my role model!).  After all, in the 1970s it was about expression and women's lib!  I also loved playing make-believe, and while I never fantasized or wished to become a princess, I did envision myself being a beautiful woman some day.

On the other hand:

I hated and cared less for: rough games, hitting other boys, men seemed far and distant from the way I was and acted, sports like football, boxing, hockey, basketball never interested me, although I did learn to understand baseball and watch it.  If my father was in a good mood and pulled me towards the TV set to watch a boxing match, I would not pay attention to it because I saw no sense in watching two men being aggressive towards each other and I would worry about both guys getting hurt and bruised.  I never liked male demeanor and felt that they were very insensitive to people, especially women.  While I never cared for the way men dressed, I was suckered into liking men's suits, which I do but as long as they are suits from the 1970s.  I was always afraid of men and the way they would handle me because quite a many men were rough when tossing me.  The only way I would like a guy is if he knew what right "buttons" to touch when playing with me.  After all, that is the way we women become attracted to a potential guy because if he knows how to play "us", we respond fervently.

There were signs throughout my early years which today I pick up on that indicate my innate sense of femininity.  First off, I would cry easily, whether it was when I was punished or if I did something to displease Mom or even my father.  I would find myself crying for the smallest things, like for a toy or for another child.  At one point it made me feel embarrassed because, of course, I was supposed to be a boy.  This was only causing me to negate my true self and is the culprit for why I have failed in social interaction as well as success in life in every aspect ranging from work to social, even family life.  I would find myself gazing and admiring myself in the mirror, and I still do (of course I love primping!).  I would stare at my face and hair and see something so tender and soft, and beautiful.  While I did so, I would pucker my lips as a girl would do, touch my hair, say things as if I was talking to another person, and even put on my clothes or sometimes Mommy's clothes.  Of course, I had to rush if I was trying on Mommy's clothes for fear of being caught.  Another sign was the way I wore jeans and the type of jeans my Mom would select for me.  I would always wear tight or form-fitting jeans as a girl would, and when I saw myself in the mirror, I would identify immediately with a girl.  However, when I went out, I would feel shy in jeans especially around men.  As I grew up and this was more clear to me, I ditched wearing jeans for so many years to avoid looking like a girl, again denying my true self.  

Yet another sign was when I would emulate things girls used to do, and this particularly occurred while I was in 2nd grade.  At the time, Cabbage Patch Kids were in style, around the early 1980s, and one of my "girl" friends from a lower grade invited me to her birthday party.  Lo and behold,. when I went with Mom, all of the girls were wearing Cabbage Patch dresses to look like one of the dolls.  I felt so left out that I started to cry.  Later that evening, I was asking Mom if she and my father would help plan a Cabbage Patch party for boys because there were some Cabbage Patch dolls that were male.  My mother answered with an astounding and definite NO!  I was crushed.  Okay, that went away, but every experience, especially this one, was beginning a vicious cycle of disillusionment,anxiety, fear, and abandonment, one which would haunt me now and then, and over time, constantly.  More in my next post.

Jess Love and Her Transition:

Patience = Success

Part 2

     Continuing with my identity crisis, being a child who is reading "mixed messages" left and right, who is told he is a boy when s/he feels like a girl,  and living a sheltered life will all equal a recipe for failure if the issues are not addressed and kept under wraps.  I was a child who loved to be coddled, treated with the utmost care, and free of any stress or pain.  My parents were both facilitating and condoning of this behavior as well.  Of course, we all know that in the real world, we get cut, bruised, and fall any given moment if we are not careful.  Not me, my life had to be one of a delicate nature and perfection.  I can thank my Mom for breeding that in my mind.  As a child, I never felt that I fit in, especially when I went to school.  While I was placed in the boys line separate from the girls, I got scared if another little boy played rough with me.  I desired to be sitting with the little girls playing with their dolls and being so polite around each other.  After all, how could I not desire that social activity; I was a girl!  Boys were beneath me and not appropriate for my company.  They were to be feared and avoided at all costs!  Isn't that how we bring up little girls to think?  I can recall that I hated when teachers treated me without the care and consideration that was employed with girls. This is why I spent most of my time either alone and playing a make-believe game all to myself or I would sit on the side of the playground or gym (when there was gym class), feeling sorry for myself, hoping some other child would come by and feel sorry for me, or I would ponder on being back home with my Mommy.  This state of being led me to be excessively and abusively bullied practically all of my elementary school career, into high school, and even into my freshman year of college.  The only reason the college bullying stopped is because I took off two semesters; when I came back, my struggle to make and keep friends began and has lasted ever since.

     Why do I even ramble on about these stages of my life?  Because these events are indicators that there was something wrong in the way I felt.  My depression was fueled because of my sense of feeling inappropriate in my body and in my mind.  I could not produce what was expected of me and was not going to try harder because it would only hurt me more and drive me to perhaps experience worse consequences.  Throughout my childhood, I was riddled with anxiety, fear, insecurity, and what I now know as depression.  There was that sense that I had to run and hide all the time for fear of getting discovered and/or physically hurt (this running away also took a symbolic nature with reference to me being transgender).  I just wanted to be free and desired for people to like me and could not understand why anyone would hate me so much.  Bullying in a children's circle is a reflection of bullying that takes place at home, and I am witness to that.  At this point in my life, I can say that the biggest bully of all was my father, who also bullied my mother in turn.  He was authoritative and a dictator, breeding fear into my life and making me feel worthless.  As a male role model, he was garbage.  The other males in my family were no more supportive, such as two of my uncles.  My father would always tell me as young as the age of 6 that he wanted nothing to do with me and that I needed to be with my mother.  However, at age 15, he said that I would become his companion.  (The reason for that will be explained in another post and the further emotional abuse that I endured as a result.)  While my parents were always protecting me from being outside and from interaction with other children, I was losing out on all the social cues and the experiences that would shape me into either a boy or a girl.  In being bullied, l I allowed for other boys to take my things away from me, such as school supplies and even a toy once.  Even some girls hated me because they thought I was a weakling.  Years later in 5th grade, I was being called "gay", but I never understood why and what that word meant.  This shows just how naive I was at the age of 9.  I do remember that there was a time at the age of 9 when I was going around my class telling people I was a girl and acting like one.  (Shouldn't this have raised any suspicion from my teachers?  Or did they suspect that there was something "off" but they did not want to give it a name?)  While this progresses, by the time I was 10 I was running away from the boys in my 5th grade class who were ganging up on me every day after school to want to hurt me.  This is where my mother literally forced my father to come to the agreement that I had to be taken out of school.  The joke was that I went to Catholic school and you wouldn't even think that some child would be bullied in this manner in a school that taught religious views and "love for one another"!  How hypocritical!  My next school while Catholic, was not any better, and I was still bullied.  By this time, I was reaching "puberty" which I had no knowledge of and my so-called hormones would be put to the test, to see if I reacted as a "man" or as a "woman".

How do you feel about your "genitals" and how do you define yourself?

Quite frankly, I hate them.  I don't even know they are there most of the time!  I have always associated my hardware as a quite larger vagina, or as I have been told by some women, "You have a fat vagina!"  I was always self-conscious of my intimates, to the point where as a child I would pull the little sausage link (lol!) and thought that eventually it would go away on its own.  One time, I even referred to it as my vagina in front of my mother (I was about 6) and she just corrected me but nothing more came out of it. While I may have been self-conscious of it more as I became a teen and was aware that mine wasn't so big, I did want to give it a chance to do it's "work".  Yet that alone always seemed so uncomfortable because I always found myself feeling embarrassed and shy.  Sometimes if I was to glance at another boy or man's crotch "by accident", whether it was during gym class or on the street, I would find myself staring at it for a long time, even lusting after it.  I never acted on my feelings because quite frankly, it still seemed gross at just the thought.  With that said, I am NOT a gay man!  If I was gay, I would feel comfortable being a man, but since I don't feel like a man and the thought of being a man is sickening, then that justifies that I am a woman trapped in a male body and aim at correcting this problem, so my inner feeling matches my exterior.  Fortunately, since I don't display a large "penis", my crotch displays a "fat vagina" so it can pass as cameltoe in tight jeans.  To further accentuate that fact, I wear a ladies thong on the outside of my jeans as a sign of fashion and as a statement that I am a woman and proud of it!  This is why I wear panties on the outside of my tight jeans.  More in my next post...

Jess Love and Her Transition:

Patience = Success

Part 1

     So for those who have seen my blog, you may wonder: who is this person that is hard to "figure out" and why is s/he wearing underwear over his (or her?) jeans?  What does this have to do with "transitioning" and why aren't there any pictures to show some progress that this person is becoming a woman?  My story and journey are a difficult account of my life which I will have to break down in pieces.  I do acknowledge that I am probably the most difficult person to understand, but then again life is complicated enough.  We can only judge things based upon our sense of self and will never be able to experience what another does.  However, by looking into another person's lens, we can come to at least understand what the other person feels, thinks, sees, and experiences.  My journey is one marked by so much emotional pain and suffering, a lifelong struggle (in December it will be 40 years) with feeling uncomfortable about myself, knowing and sensing that something is wrong inside of me, and an overall feeling of embarrassment about my body, uncertainty about how I should behave in order to "hide my true self".  That true self was etched in stone even while I was in my mother's womb (the first and eternal love of my life who doesn't know about my transition plans).  Put simply: I am a woman trapped in a male body!

     While I have delayed and been resistant to blogs in the past, I have overcome all of that and feel that now, as I am about to approach a milestone in a few months, I would like to come down on record on my transgender experience as well as begin documenting for those who see this blog my transition which will pick up speed after the end of this year.  I feel that at 40 and while I still have my youth, I should not postpone this process any further.  I need to solidify myself as a true woman, one who feels, acts, thinks, and can contribute of herself to society as her true self.  It's no more time for lies; it is time to be true to myself, and perhaps I can also be of some inspiration to those trans girls out there who have gone through a similar situation.

Then why did it take so long for you to come out as transgender?

The answer is very simple: fear of judgment but most of all, wanting to make sure that conclusions about myself were right.  Sure, we all go through phases in life but some "phases" are more than just a phase.  These "episodes" may just be an ongoing underlying condition which we must deal with or may not be well equipped to handle.  So, for the most part, it is preferable to hide those signs rather than show them to the world.  I was brought up in a typical Hispanic home of Ecuadorian parents and I was first-generation American-born.  Their culture is one that still holds on to the "machismo" attitude prevalent in Latin culture, one that in my opinion is oppressive and outdated.  My parents, especially my mother, are of Catholic upbringing and I saw nothing but good moral examples in a peaceful home which shielded me from the dangers of the outside world.  Of course, my mother was in this country at first with no legal status so she had to be very careful that every step we took was made with the utmost intelligence.  Yet that did not prevent my home to be riddled with daily arguments and fights over stuff that occurred between my parents in the old country.  Among this tumultuous and overprotective life, I was brought up.  While I did survive, it left me traumatized in ways that most people would never imagine and still haunt me to this very day.

Probably for me, the most difficult of the experiences that I have had to endure was that "ambiguous manner" in which I was socialized.  I was never allowed to go outside and play with other kids of my same "gender" or interact with children my age in general.  On the other hand, my mother was always by my side, my father and other male "role model wannabes" rejected my presence, so my mother became my role model in all ways.  Not only that, ever since I can remember as a child, I felt "different".  While I was being reminded that I was a boy every time, I always saw something different in the mirror, something emulating that of my mother and of other females that were present when I was a baby and growing up.  I was aware that my features were soft and that I was extra sensitive to things, like I would cry easily if I tapped myself against a door or just being reprimanded for the silliest things.  When I would see my father and uncle, my mother would also not allow me to get close to them because, of course, if I did, both men would deliver me back into my mother's hands.  It's like these two men were afraid to touch me or have any interaction with me because they may have sensed something in my aura.  You know, all of us can sense vibrations from other individuals.  I was caught in a world of many contradictions.

My mother would allow neither my father nor my uncle to touch me or bathe me or whatever.  My mother had exclusive rights to it.  Not only that, I always rejected any male if they approached me or got scared of them.  I would always allow some of my mother's girlfriends to touch me and handle me any way they could.  With regards to socialization, I had poor socialization as a child in interaction.  On the other hand, my mother kept my hair long (well that was the style back in the 70s) and always brushed it, dressed me with brighter colors than your typical boy, always put on fragrance to help me smell "fresh and flowery" and talked to me as a mother would talk to her daughter.  I love her to death and she is my best friend, but there were times when (and here is where the contradiction come in) she would see me walk so carefree, wiggling my butt, that she would smack me up my behind and reprimand me yelling in Spanish: "PARECES UNA MUJERCITA CAMINANDO, CAMINA BIEN!" (meaning"You are waling like a pretty little woman walk right!).  The way my mother said the word "mujercita" was in a very ugly and almost derogatory manner.  I sometimes, and later in life, checked her on that by reminding her that she should not express herself like that of women in general because she herself is a woman!  That always seemed to bother me because I did not see anything wrong with being a woman, so why should she?  Is that something so evil?  I mean, if there is anything evil it is the way that our society tends to manipulate our socialization claiming that anything that is male in character is well desired.  Please don't make me puke!  I was about 3 years old at the time, so since then I have a sense that I was born in the wrong gender.  This is only the beginning of my travesty.  I will continue in my next post on my childhood and how this would become a lifelong problem, the search for my gender identity.

Blue thong (panties) outside of tight jeans...super sexy!

Jess Luv75 Transgender Goddess: Jess Luv75 Transgender Goddess: Me wearing a blue ...

Jess Luv75 Transgender Goddess: Jess Luv75 Transgender Goddess: Me wearing a blue ...: Jess Luv75 Transgender Goddess: Me wearing a blue thong (panties) outside of tight... : Me wearing a blue thong (panties) outside of tight j...

Striped thong over tight jeans...deelish!

Jess Luv75 Transgender Goddess: Me wearing a blue thong (panties) outside of tight...

Jess Luv75 Transgender Goddess: Me wearing a blue thong (panties) outside of tight...: Me wearing a blue thong (panties) outside of tight jeans in the Village.

Me wearing a blue thong (panties) outside of tight jeans in the Village.