Whenever size inclusivity popped up on my social feeds, I used to ignore it, unable to find the words for how I felt. But lately, with long overdue activism pushing us out of our comfort zones to encourage change, it feels like the right time for those words to come to fruition.
You could call me, if you must, a plus size rider. My breeches are a size 36 or 38, sometimes even a 40 if things run narrow or I don’t want to risk returning a too small size. My boots were labeled “plus” when I bought them. My sunshirts? An XXL. But when people ask me on Instagram what it’s like to be a plus size rider, I tell them I don’t know. To me, I am, and have always been, just a rider. Sure, I have a booty, thighs that touch, and a little more jiggle around my waist than I would like, but my passion for this sport or softness in the saddle isn’t affected by the size of my clothes.
Unfortunately, most of our sport doesn’t see it that way. I can count on both hands the amount of brands I can buy quality breeches from in my size. I can’t count how many times I’ve seen an amazing new product or stunning small business, but their size chart features an XL as a 10-12. Even then, everyone pushes to support small businesses, and while I do my best, usually purchasing accessories or something of the sort, most size ranges stop at a large. The models in the flyers and magazines I get each month? They look nothing like me.
I didn’t used to be “plus size.” In college, as an overworked student-athlete, I was a fit, curvy size 32 in my beloved Tailored Sportsmans. I could easily go into a store, pick something off the rack—albeit from the back where the rest of the mediums and larges reside—and purchase it without worry about it how it might fit. While I never considered myself skinny—I’ll thank my unhealthy relationship with food for that—the range of breeches I could zip up were endless.
But after college, I traded weekly lessons and practices riding numerous horses a day for a job where I spend 80% of my work days sitting at a desk. I ride my semi-retired horse four to five times a week instead of six or seven. A family history of thyroid issues and years of ignoring a gastro-intestinal disorder reared their ugly heads. My relationship with food was slightly improved and I found a person who loves me no matter what size the clothes I buy are. Bodies fluctuate—that’s life.
Now, when I used to be excited, I get nervous when I have to buy new riding clothes. Those “plus” boots I mentioned? They’re at the end of their life and the brand that made them, not my favorite but one I was so excited to see have an offering in my calf size, discontinued them. My options are sub-par quality with bad craftsmanship or customs reaching close to the thousands. If I made a list of breeches in my size, most would be “tights,” not the high quality breeches I am looking for.
I don’t care if a brand chooses to label them extended sizes or if a retailer puts them in a sub category all their own. I do care that the industry recognizes that there are riders out there just like me. They can call it plus sized. But I am me sized. And we all deserve to feel represented in this sport we dedicate so much of our lives to.
The Working Amateur 