Hush Money: Saddle Slip Shenanigans and THAT Girl Energy
Some stories begin with grace, poise, and perfectly timed confidence. This is not one of those stories. This one starts with me, a dusty arena, a borrowed saddle that had seen better days, and a horse named Hush Money who clearly decided that my dignity was optional.
It was supposed to be a simple ride—a little warm-up, nothing serious, just me channeling “THAT girl” energy. You know the type: sleek ponytail, fresh lip gloss, boots that shine like they’ve never touched mud. The vision in my head was effortless equestrian goddess. The reality? More like barnyard blooper reel.
From the moment I mounted, Hush Money gave me that side-eye that only horses can pull off. A look that said, Are you sure about this, darling? I brushed it off, squared my shoulders, and set off at a trot. That’s when the saddle decided it had other plans. With every bounce, it inched slightly sideways, like a mischievous toddler sneaking cookies. I tightened my thighs, adjusted my reins, and tried to pretend everything was fine.
Spoiler: everything was not fine.
Halfway down the rail, gravity took over. The saddle slid left. I counterbalanced right. Hush Money flicked an ear as if to say, This isn’t my problem, and kept on trotting. For a few dramatic seconds, I was a human pendulum swinging off the side like a rodeo clown who missed the rehearsal. Somewhere in the distance, I could hear laughter—real or imagined, who knows—but in my head, it was a full stadium roar.
I clung on with every ounce of “THAT girl” determination I could muster. Forget Pilates; nothing works your core quite like trying to stop yourself from being flung into the dirt while your horse calmly pretends you don’t exist. Finally, with a desperate wiggle and a sound that could only be described as “barnyard salsa dancing,” I managed to haul myself upright. The saddle groaned in protest, my hair exploded into a sweaty halo, and my boots definitely lost that shine.
And here’s the kicker: as soon as I regained my seat, Hush Money let out the deepest sigh—long, dramatic, and unmistakably judgmental. If a horse could roll its eyes, he would have. It was the equine equivalent of, Girl, you are not her.
But here’s where the “THAT girl energy” comes in. Did I dismount gracefully and call it a day? Absolutely not. I adjusted that crooked saddle, flipped my hair (what was left of it), and carried on like nothing happened. Because being THAT girl isn’t about perfection—it’s about commitment. It’s about turning saddle slip shenanigans into your own arena runway.
By the time we finished, I was still a mess: dusty face, crooked tack, and a bruise forming somewhere unmentionable. But I held my head high as if I had just nailed an Olympic dressage routine. Because let’s be real—half the glam of horse riding is surviving the chaos with your ego intact.
Later, when friends asked how my ride went, I smiled sweetly and said, “Oh, you know, just channeling my THAT girl energy with Hush Money.” They’ll never know the truth unless they saw the security footage (which, let’s pray, does not exist).
In the end, the saddle slipped, the horse judged, and I nearly ate dirt. But I kept my composure, and that—messy hair, bruises, and all—is peak THAT girl energy.
