The other day I was at the grocery and I realized people were looking at me oddly. I started thinking about it and I realized this wasn’t the first time I’d noticed that recently… Why on earth were people giving me strange looks? It wasn’t until I got home and kicked off my boots that the pieces started to click together. Dirt and hair mixed with a bit of M-T-G and smeared on my jeans? Check. Giant nuzzle/dirt mark on the front of my shirt? Check. Unusual horse-shaped sweat print on my butt? Check. Hair standing on end with a few shavings sprinkled in for good measure? Check.
At that moment, it struck me. I am a Cowgirl. I’ve always been a cowgirl, sure, but it used to be different. I lived on the farm and so my barn attire and eau de horse were usually restricted to the home front as I had no need to go out and about dressed that way. Now I live in the City and, practical girl that I am, I like to multi task. Therefore you might find me in, say, the grocery dressed in filthy riding jeans with a 15 year old shirt on and spurs jingling as I walk down the aisle. Needless to say, I stick out like a sore (and stinky) thumb. As I continued pondering this topic, I began to realize all the ways in which I truly am a cowgirl…
*I think nothing of shopping around after a long day at the barn, trudging around in my dirty boots with jeans that always seem to drop shavings out of the creases at the worst time.
*My favorite stores are Home Depot and the nearest tack shop.
*For my birthday one year, my favorite gift was a one year wormer pack.
*Wish lists don’t come from Amazon or Macy’s – more like Schneiders or Horse.com
*I shop for “street clothes” at Tractor Supply Co and covet the new Wrangler flip flops
*I couldn’t change a baby diaper without gagging, but I regularly pick crap out of my horse’s feet and it doesn’t bother me (although I am going to make a case that horse poo is so much less nasty than baby poo)
*My car might be a depository for any of the following at any given time: saddles, bales of hay, bagged shavings, feed, brushes, or buckets. And it WILL be a depository at ALL times for dirt, shavings, and horse hair. I recently got a few odd looks regarding the tail extension hanging from my rearview mirror. Hey, it beats fuzzy dice, right?
I used to tell my friend, who teasingly called me Cowgirl for months, that I am actually a “horsewoman.” But you know what? I AM a Cowgirl. And proud of it!