I don't know about you but my hands are as rough as sandpaper, decorated with
hangnails, embossed with callouses and blisters, shredded with a heap of cuts
and scrapes...and that's not even COUNTING the scars!
Let's see, there's that funny dent on my left ring finger when a horse bolted
out of a stable, mashing my hand against the door; the wrinkley scar tissue
on my right index finger when a pony once mistook it for a carrot (that taught
me to keep my hand flat at all times when feeding tidbits, if nothing else!)
Then there's the who-knows-how-they-got-there scars.
For all horse-owning Horsewyse readers out there, I bet your hands look pretty
much the same. Welcome to the side-effects of riding! Isn't it ironic that
riders are supposed to have 'soft hands' in the saddle yet our poor, well-used
hands suffer the most during the routine of horse care. No wonder gloves are
popular in the show ring!
My poor Nana was forever giving me manicure kits for birthdays and Christmases
but I refused to take the hint. I never did figure out what half those weird
tool thingys were for and anyway, who wants to waste time pushing back one's
cuticles? Mind you, in my teens I went through a phase of coveting long fingernails,
but that didn't last long after I splurged close to $100 and three hours of
my life getting what looked like talons glued to my fingers. They lasted a
whole 12 hours...three went AWOL after a horse I was trying to load in a float
suddenly took off. The leadrope ripped through my hands, taking the fingernails
with them and giving me ropeburn into the bargain. And I just remembered that's
where I got that scar on the palm of my hand! I never did find the nails in
the mud so tore the others off and that was the end of that.
It's embarrassing when you're out in public and someone discovers the disgusting
state of your hands. The polite ones don't say a word, the tactless ones utter
something like 'crikey' (usually a stronger word than that but I've censored
it for politeness)..."what happened to your hands?!"
Sitting on your hands works okay unless you're at a restaurant, in which case
there's no avoiding the issue. The movies are good, no-one can see them anyway.
Try as I might, that in-ground dirt remains remains stubbornly in tiny cracks
that adorn each side of my index fingers. I can scrape for ages at the gunk
beneath my nails but it ain't budging. I rarely need to cut my nails, they
always somehow get torn off. I reckon it's a miracle my horse never got colic
with the number of fingernails he's probably eaten mixed in with his feed
over the years.
And girls....have you ever tried to put on a pair of pantyhose with your sandpaper
hands? Erk! Anyway, chances are you won't succeed without laddering them (several
times). Sandpaper hands are great for stripping your horse's winter coat though...who
needs a currycomb? I reckon I've rubbed in so much Vaseline Intensive Care
lotion over the years I deserve shares in the company! I know I could wear
gloves for the dirty horse work and I did try once, but they got all sweaty
and I left one someplace and never did find it again.
Anyway, that's enough about hands...there's lots of other bits that suffer
for our love of horses! Take legs for instance. My horse's legs are beautifully
clipped (if I do say so myself) but mine...well, they're a tad on the furry
side but what the heck, I'm usually wearing jeans or jodhs so what's the point
of de-fuzzing? I might do it once or twice a year if I'm forced into a dress
(but hopefully not the aforementioned pantyhose).
I tried shaving my legs in the shower once and almost clogged up the drain,
which was already gurgling with bits of hay that had washed off. Feet suffer
almost as much as hands, mostly as they inconveniently tend to get in the
way of shod hooves. How many black toenails have you scored over the years?
And why whenever you take your shoes off, does chaff always come fluttering
out? Even if you haven't been near any chaff for weeks, it feels duty-bound
to migrate its way into your shoes. Plus there is some kind of unwritten law
that the more recently you've vacuumed, the more chaff comes out. I love visiting
horsey friends...they never complain when I take my shoes off at their house.
I just add my shoes and chaff to the pile already in their laundry.
I love my blundstones and riding boots but your feet do tend to sweat heavily
in them. Which means they get...well...a bit whiffy sometimes. Odour eaters
struggle valiantly for a while before giving up the ghost and the only solution
I've come up with is to change your socks. A lot. But you no doubt will still
battle athlete's foot.
Now let's see...what other parts of your anatomy suffer in the name of horses?
Well there's your butt. I tried riding in a g-string once and got an mega
wedgie for my efforts. Never again. Some people swear by g-strings but they
just made me swear. I like the 'no visible undies line' under jodhpurs as
much as the next person, but give me good old Bonds Cottontails anytime. Not
very trendy I'll admit and I have a complex about hanging them on the clothesline
in broad daylight but gee they're comfy when you're in the saddle!
My hair is in fairly good order. I get the split ends trimmed every six to
eight weeks...that's easy to remember because it's right about the time my
horse is due a farrier visit. My hair usually lives in a pony tail stuffed
beneath a baseball or riding hat....which brings us back to sweat again. Taking
your riding hat off after an energetic schooling session can sure damage your
image...sweaty hat hair is not a good look. Especially if your hat is a bit
tight and leaves a bright red line across your forehead.
There is another unwritten law that states right about now, the Man Of Your
Dreams will stroll past and give you a second glance for all the wrong reasons.
One good thing about working with horses is toned arms and shoulders. I can
cart a bale of hay, lug a sack of feed, manoeuvre a horse float onto the back
of the car, hold a toey horse...plus there's all the grooming I've done over
the years. I thought I looked pretty good until someone at the beach once
asked if I played rugby. Your face suffers from being out in all seasons.
I am very much an SPF30+ gal, I plaster the stuff on liberally several times
a day but still have 'laugh-lines' around my eyes. Chapped lips and me go
hand in hand. I apply chapstick whenever I remember but I hate the way it
feels as though I have a couple of slimy slugs on my lips. Ditto lipstick.
There's one part of female anatomy that can be tricky to manage sometimes.
You know which part I'm talking about. Boobs. When I was (ahem) a developing
teenager, those darned things really started getting in the way. I tried a
sports bra once but it was a bit tight and squished everything around to the
back. But something has to be done...I mean, if you've ever experienced a
sitting trot without decent support you'll know what I mean. I'm no Dolly
Parton but a good support bra is a must. One time I was climbing into the
saddle when I whacked one bosom hard against the side of the saddle. It was
an eye-watering experience I can tell you and it's never looked quite the
same since! My bosom that is.
Last but not least....there's two vertebrae in my neck that have almost fused
together, a legacy of past falls; a dodgy disc in my lower back (shouldn't
have lugged those hay bales!) plus slightly bowed legs from years of riding,
although I'm kinda proud of those. Oh yeah...blisters on my heels from new
riding boots. Do they count?
by Emma Saville © 2002 Horsewyse Magazine.