I’ve decided to come back to Rochester the weekend after I leave for the summer. Why? To ride in my very first horse show. Yeah, that’s going to be weird. Who starts this crap past the age of 8, anyway? I’m hoping I’ll get to ride my favorite pony, but that’s probably not going to happen. A ten year old told me I couldn’t buy said pony (she’s for sale!) because I would “just outgrow her.” His mother and I laughed at him. My dad got a good laugh out of that when I told him, too. And then it hit me – I am short. I mean, I’ve known this for a long time, but seriously, pathetically, kids-think-I’m-only-15 short. Damn.
I had to go buy my first “professional” looking clothes for a presentation on Monday. I thought I might as well get something I can wear for interviews next year, right? Well. I don’t understand why pants have to be so long. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not into high-waters, but pants that reach the floor instead of four inches under my foot would be nice. And I think this is a valid complaint, see, because supposedly the average height for American women is only about an inch taller than I am – so why is it that pants labeled “short” are still way too long for me? Shouldn’t the average pants be about my size? Or do I just have really stumpy legs or what?
And on the subject of riding things, I got to have my first ride on the back of Steve’s crotch-rocket last night. It was a little cold, but it was awesome. I feel like such a badass now and it just made me want to buy one even more (but I think I’d buy a horse first).
