Embarrassing moments on horseback - we all have them. This is the story of once such time.
When I was about 19 years old, I did quite a bit of heavy trail riding on my old gelding, Woody. One beautiful afternoon in late fall, I saddled up and rode out into the hills for a few hours. I loved to ride the deer trails, so twisty and narrow and hemmed in by brush that most of the other riders in the area avoided them as much as possible. I liked the solitude and the adventure of it. The blue sky above, the green things growing all around, just me, my horse, the wild animals hiding in the bushes, and God.
But all good things come to an end and at the end of nearly all such rides I'd take Woody down to the big public arena near the farm and turn him out to roll. On this particular occasion, I arrived at the arena to find a man and his son, a boy of about 13, riding their horses. They had trailered in and they assured me that they were just cooling their horses out, and that they would be done in a few moments. While we were talking, I dismounted - only to have the underside of my bra become hooked on the saddle horn. I was wearing a thick sweatshirt and a long-sleeved thermal top underneath, and when my feet hit the ground, my boobs were set free and my clothes were holding my head and arms hostage.
The man started laughing, and I turned to press my upper body against Woody's side in some attempt at modesty. It took me several agonizingly long moments to extricate myself from my trapped clothes and then unhook the whole mess from the saddle horn. I grabbed poor, patient Woody's closest rein and angled him between me and man and his son. Woody dutifully stood while I yanked my shirt back on, stuffed my bra in my back pocket, and tied my sweatshirt around my waist. I was so embarrassed that my whole body had gone hot, my face positively burning. I glanced up at the teenage boy to find his jaw hanging open like a landed fish, his eyes still locked on my (now-covered) chest. Mortified I mumbled something polite, climbed back into the saddle, and rode back.
Looking back on it, I realize how hilarious the situation was, and how I'm pretty sure that was the first time that boy had seen a set of tits (at least in real life). I wonder now the impression it made on him, and to how many people he and his father have told their side of the story. :) But the moral of my tale is plain - always be sure that you keep a hand over the horn when you dismount!
