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horse crazy
Nov. 2nd, 2006 09:11 pmThis is mostly for my own reference, but...
I was one of those girls who was crazy about horses. I started collecting Breyer models when I was 5, and at one point had close to 200 of them. I started going to horse shows when I was about 8, with no adult supervision (My mom would drop me off, and then come find me later, or give me a watch and have a time and place to meet.)
I went on a lot of trail rides as a kid, but didn't start riding regularly until I was 10. That summer, we were in Canada, and my parents discovered that riding lessons there were really inexpensive, so they sprung for twice-weekly private lessons. But when we went back to California, mom declared riding too expensive once again.
I got to go to six weeks of "horse camp" (a three days per week day camp) at a local stable the next summer. I loved it and wanted more, but the money issue was a problem.
I should explain that my family was financially comfortable but not extremely so. And I begged for my own horse more often than I even begged for lessons, and my mom was worried that if she gave in on the lessons, I'd somehow end up talking her and my dad into buying a horse for me. "We're not rich!" I heard over and over again. She saw what sort of people were "horsey" and they weren't middle class biologist's daughters.
When I was 11 1/2 I was diagnosed with diabetes. My physician knew I liked horses, and encouraged my parents to get me lessons again as a form of physical activity. (Like many of us, I was unathletic, uncoordinated and hated all team sports. I was also small for my age.) My mom relented but said it was temporary. When she decided after a few months that lessons really were too expensive, my physician read her the riot act. He wanted me to have something I could live for each week; I was depressed and moody and really a "pill" but taking a lesson always made me smile.
I should now explain that there was definitely enough money for once or twice weekly riding ($15 for a group lesson and $20 for a cross-country lesson/trail ride.) My parents were Depression babies, though, and didn't want to spend money on "luxuries." They disagreed about whether riding lessons were a luxury. The compromise they reached was that I could have the lessons and the trail rides, but not my own horse, and not any of the horsey things that required a lot of money, like showing or foxhunting. It helped that my grandmother (who had been quite the horsewoman when she was young) chipped in some money towards my lessons.
So I rode for most of my teenage years. I was never a great rider, but being around horses was and is very good for me.
Why did I stop? Boys. Summer after my junior year in high school, I had my first serioud boyfriend. Mom eventually gave me a choice: I could use the car to see him (since he did not have a car and lived about 12 miles away) or I could use the car to go riding. I think she hoped I would pick riding, but I picked boys instead. Hormones over pleasure, I guess. And now that I am riding again, I could shoot myself for ever quitting in the first place...
I was one of those girls who was crazy about horses. I started collecting Breyer models when I was 5, and at one point had close to 200 of them. I started going to horse shows when I was about 8, with no adult supervision (My mom would drop me off, and then come find me later, or give me a watch and have a time and place to meet.)
I went on a lot of trail rides as a kid, but didn't start riding regularly until I was 10. That summer, we were in Canada, and my parents discovered that riding lessons there were really inexpensive, so they sprung for twice-weekly private lessons. But when we went back to California, mom declared riding too expensive once again.
I got to go to six weeks of "horse camp" (a three days per week day camp) at a local stable the next summer. I loved it and wanted more, but the money issue was a problem.
I should explain that my family was financially comfortable but not extremely so. And I begged for my own horse more often than I even begged for lessons, and my mom was worried that if she gave in on the lessons, I'd somehow end up talking her and my dad into buying a horse for me. "We're not rich!" I heard over and over again. She saw what sort of people were "horsey" and they weren't middle class biologist's daughters.
When I was 11 1/2 I was diagnosed with diabetes. My physician knew I liked horses, and encouraged my parents to get me lessons again as a form of physical activity. (Like many of us, I was unathletic, uncoordinated and hated all team sports. I was also small for my age.) My mom relented but said it was temporary. When she decided after a few months that lessons really were too expensive, my physician read her the riot act. He wanted me to have something I could live for each week; I was depressed and moody and really a "pill" but taking a lesson always made me smile.
I should now explain that there was definitely enough money for once or twice weekly riding ($15 for a group lesson and $20 for a cross-country lesson/trail ride.) My parents were Depression babies, though, and didn't want to spend money on "luxuries." They disagreed about whether riding lessons were a luxury. The compromise they reached was that I could have the lessons and the trail rides, but not my own horse, and not any of the horsey things that required a lot of money, like showing or foxhunting. It helped that my grandmother (who had been quite the horsewoman when she was young) chipped in some money towards my lessons.
So I rode for most of my teenage years. I was never a great rider, but being around horses was and is very good for me.
Why did I stop? Boys. Summer after my junior year in high school, I had my first serioud boyfriend. Mom eventually gave me a choice: I could use the car to see him (since he did not have a car and lived about 12 miles away) or I could use the car to go riding. I think she hoped I would pick riding, but I picked boys instead. Hormones over pleasure, I guess. And now that I am riding again, I could shoot myself for ever quitting in the first place...
