Let’s Talk About “Plus-Sized” Riders — And Also, Something Called Grace
Someone left me to my own devices to troll social media unattended. I’m sorry.
I noticed that USDF posted that July is plus size rider month on YourDressage. They did a post on Facebook and asked for riders to submit photos.
Having a little too much free time due to the Florida weather choosing violence, and being the masochist I am, I had to toddle on down to the comments section and see the carnage.
It did not disappoint. As you might imagine, it was an absolute dumpster fire: some people cheerfully posting photos and their stories, others calling out USDF and labeling the entire idea as offensive, and even more on their soapboxes expressing faux concern for those poor “fat people” and pontificating on the decline of society as seen by its current trend in embracing obesity.
Yeesh. I almost wished it was late enough in the day to have some wine.
But it did get me thinking, and as someone who has been various levels of fat and fit, I figured I’d chime in on the subject — you know, just for shits and giggles.
Milona DG (The Red Dragon) and I at one of her first shows last December. Yet another time wine may have been appropriate early in the day. Photo (c) Q2 Photography.
As far back is kindergarten, I remember being the fat kid. I innately recognized that I was not like the other little girls dressing up like princesses or playing ‘house.’ I wasn’t slim and petite. My belly stuck out and I was bigger than most of the boys in my class (both with regards to height and weight).
But I can’t say that I cared at that point. Just that I noticed it. And I noticed that adults around me were unhappy about it. As far as I was concerned though, it was much more fun to be an explorer or a ninja turtle than to play with dolls or dress up anyway. I vaguely remember, sometime in middle school when being conventionally pretty and popular started to be a thing, thinking that I’d probably not have a boyfriend or “find a husband” until I was older, specifically when it wouldn’t matter that I didn’t look like the stereotypically ‘pretty’ girls. But even then, it was mostly a sort of factual acknowledgement rather than distressing (it’s actually way more distressing now, as an adult, to realize just how much that sort of narrative regarding a woman’s value and role was already so ingrained despite the fact that that was not modeled by my parents).
It wasn’t until the end of middle school that I remember being acutely upset about my body (you know, like 99.9% of the female population, but I was also actually fat). It was summertime and I’d spent all day in the pool with friends who had since gone home. Friends who were much thinner and, to my mind, prettier. I’d gone in to shower off the chlorine and gotten distracted by my reflection in the mirror. I was probably 12 or 13 and starting to look less like a chubby kid and more like a fat teenager. I remember staring in frustration at my protruding belly and wishing I could physically just rip it off. I may have momentarily tried to. Even though I had been trying to lose weight, I admittedly had no idea how that actually worked and so the whole thing was an exercise in futility and disappointment (one might reasonably argue that this experience served as a solid life lesson in preparation for adulting, but that’s another rabbit hole).
Anyway, it was shortly after that episode that my parents [FINALLY] let me start taking riding lessons. As a kid who was mostly interested in reading and drawing (and staying up until the wee hours doing so), finding a physical activity that I loved was a game changer… eventually.
I wish I could say that it was instantly all sunshine, roses, and blue ribbons, but we all know that’s a farce. For starters, finding breeches and boots to fit a fat kid in the late 90s was a real treat, and dealing with the side-eye from the salespeople was even better. I remember both having to buy a men’s jacket for my very first show because none of the women’s would fit, and my father having an all-out knock-down with the male salesman at the Saddlery of Orlando when he was snarky about having boots with calves that were large enough for me. I was 14 years old, and a grown man thought it was appropriate to publicly comment on my body. Gross.
This was from that first horse show, 100 Deputies, 100 Kids. It was a benefit show. The horse was the one I’d been riding in lessons, Freedom. I had been riding maybe a month, so you know, I was pretty much an expert. I was also already practicing my RBF, apparently. Not that you can really tell given the fabulous quality of the photo.
While there was a lot of suck at the start — I knew breeches weren’t flattering on me and I was admittedly embarrassed that I didn’t “look the part” on my horse — I was mostly thrilled to be riding. And my parents, who apparently were going for sainthood, decided after a few months of lessons and a lease horse, that they would buy me a horse… and then one for my sisters, and one for my mom, and ultimately a farm. That translated into a lot more riding, a lot more chores, and a lot less of me.
Skye, my first horse, and I at Canterbury. It is unclear who hated dressage more, but either way I suppose there’s some irony that it ultimately became my discipline of choice. Photo (c) Morgane Schmidt.
I’d like to pretend that it was some majikal metamorphosis where I shed the weight, won some sort of world championship of equestrian excellence, and never looked back, but that would be mostly fictional (there may have been a few questionable plastic trophies and ribbons among the crashing into fences and getting yeeted into shrubbery, though).
Skye being a saint as I had zero business with him. This was early on in my riding career — maybe a year or so in– and thankfully one of the days I did NOT play in the shrubbery.
I did get fit and lose weight, but understanding how judgmental people tend to be — particularly of women’s bodies — how difficult it is to be on equal footing in a show ring if your body doesn’t fit the mold, and how hard and long it takes to effectively lose weight, my weight is always something I’m well aware of (Why, hello, Disordered Eating!). All of which brings me to my point in writing this: we should be striving to extend some grace — you know, courteous goodwill — to others (and ourselves), particularly with regards to their physical being. Not only would doing so be beneficial to those struggling to get their body where they’d like by giving them the time and space to do so sans unnecessary snark from the peanut gallery, but also it’s common decency since someone else’s weight isn’t anyone else’s business.
In support of that, here are some truths to keep in mind:
- People generally know when they’re overweight; they don’t need your ‘knowing glances’ or ‘helpful commentary.’ If you are truly concerned for their health, you’d be supportive of their journey and understanding of the fact that they may have hurdles to overcome that you’ve not dealt with or considered. Never in the history of ever has making someone feel lousy been a great motivational tactic.
- Being overweight is NOT a moral failing. This is lazy thinking that’s, tellingly, more often applied to women than men.
- Being overweight is also not a simple choice (Ben Carpenter, a fitness professional, does an excellent job of outlining why that is in his video here ).
- Being overweight is not *just* about calories in and calories out, because that ignores educational deficits, hormonal issues, medical conditions, behavioral health issues, and implies that people live in a vacuum without real world stressors that affect food choices and availability. Seriously, this is a line people tend to use to feel superior to others and oversimplify the issue.
- Losing weight is a process and often a lifestyle change; you have no idea where anyone may be in the process at any given time, so feeling morally superior is pretty presumptuous.
- Fitness does not always (or usually even) equate with model thinness. Read that again.
Now, before anyone loses their mind, I am not saying that fitness isn’t important or necessary, especially if you want to be an elite athlete (because it is). But I also don’t know many fellow equestrians with elite aspirations who aren’t paying attention to their physical fitness and health. Which again, also doesn’t mean they need to look a certain way to achieve said fitness (can we all just take a moment to bond over the fact that white breeches aren’t exactly flattering on anyone?). I would posit that it’s perhaps best to let individuals decide what’s optimal for their body to pursue their desired goals.
I’m obviously better able to ride effectively 50 lbs lighter. But I still enjoyed my horses when I was heavier, with decent success competing, and it was largely through the process of riding and working with them that my fitness fell in line as well. All of which further highlights that fitness is a continual process and fairly personal.
In addition to that, I feel the need to point out that in accepting that some bodies are larger than others, I am also not “glorifying obesity” (let’s be real, that’s not even a thing). What I am saying is that none of us have any right to pass judgement on someone else’s body. Period. And that our doing so often says a great deal more about us than them.
The Red Dragon and I playing in the Florida Swamp last weekend. Photo (c) Morgane Schmidt.
I will admit that as someone who was able to lose weight, there is a part of me that wants to think “well, if I did it, others can too.” And in some cases that’s true, but that line of thinking not only makes quite a few erroneous assumptions, it also implies that I have the right to dictate or judge what someone else should or should not do with their body; because why am I even making this assessment? If you feel compelled to be snarky or judgey about someone’s weight, ask yourself why that is. Why do you care? It isn’t anyone’s job to be aesthetically pleasing to you. Embarrassingly enough, my experience has been that often when I feel the need to make these sorts of observations of others, it’s because I am comparing myself.
And for those of you lamenting the welfare of the horse, I would challenge you to really examine that perspective. Is that what it’s about for you? Absolutely, horse welfare is critical and should form the base of what we do as equestrians. I am not advocating riders being inappropriately mounted for their size. But I would wager that 9 out of 10 times people claiming this as their reasoning for being snarky about a rider’s weight aren’t actually being 100% honest. If they were, there would be far more outrage over the larger men riding reiners and cutters with 50+ pounds of tack (or more discussion about abusive training tactics at the top of the sport…but that’s certainly another topic for another day).
Ultimately, for myself, my goal is to be fit enough to do the things I love well, specifically riding (because the fitness bar for running my mouth and being a general menace to my friends is fairly low, lucky them). But I’m also actively working towards accepting that that may not look the way 20-year-old-me may have wanted, and that’s ok (20-year-old-me was a decidedly lesser version anyway). Interwoven into all that is also reminding myself that everyone’s path is their own, and they get to decide what that looks like without my unsolicited opinion. I would invite you all to do the same.
Milona DG and I. Photo (c) Q2 Photography.
