Just Jess.

I come from Wisconsin. If this is news to you, we have obviously not been friends for very long, because I find it my self-given duty to declare to one and all just how wonderful my homestate is. Wisconsin is not simply "America's Dairyland" (though we take great pride in our dairy products; low-moisture mozzarella, anyone?). Wisconsin is home to rolling hills, forests, lakes, creeks, ponds, marshes, small-town farmers, and many, many clever, happy people.



Wisconsin is also home to winter. Lovely, beautiful, snowy winters. Winters that take your breath away with their frosted beauty, then hold that breath in a fierce frozen grip, leaving you gasping through your thick knitted scarf. It's a little chilly.

For this reason, Wisconsin natives are proficient in the art of layering. An ancient art that has evolved over many years, layers have become thinner and more proliferative as new materials are created: moisture-wicking, fast-absorbing, ultralite, woven silk, cottonblend, and Sasquatch Wickaway 2.0. I've often trekked outdoors wearing no less than six to seven layers. Layers give a chance for air, a fine insulator, to be trapped and warmed against the body, keeping you toasty warm when the windchill dips below absolute zero. Layers don't leave much room for movement, however, so don't plan on doing any sort of nimble activity while layered up. No needlepoint, no check writing, no jacket zipping; nothing you couldn't do if you had clubs for hands and no elbows. Shoveling and snowmobiling and waddling about in the woods after deer are about the only things one can do while layered heavily; good thing we all like doing them.



I'm a lady of many layers. These layers are comfortable. As soon as I start to feel a bit of a draft, I'll slip into another layer. I become accustomed to it. I'm not too flexible, but that's fine; I'm completely comfy.

A year in winterless Kenya got my super-layered self worked up into a sweat. And slowly, awkwardly, I've been stripping the layers off, trying on different appearances for size. Happy go-lucky; studious; out-of-my-way kind; serious; acquaintance of many; close friend of few; musician; witty jokester; comforting pal. Most of the outfits that have shown up looked much better when I first put them on years ago, and they're quickly discarded. A lot didn't live up to their discomfort-wicking promises. Day to day, I've been cycling through my layers, trying to find the one that is me. I'm stripping down, becoming more vulnerable, more self-conscious. If this isn't me, who – or what – is?


"A zebra takes its stripes wherever it goes." -Maasai proverb


Someday, I'll finally strip off all the layers and find something that's more than skin-deep. I'll expose myself for who I truly am; confident and unashamed. I'll be free to move without restriction.

Forgive me if you've been discomforted because of my stale, dank, layered, changing self. Bear with me as I strip down.

Someday, I'll show off my stripes. No layers.
Just Jess.