One of the best things about my job is putting together our equine section.

I love horses and the people who raise them so much that I have even endeavored to look like them.

Let’s face it; horse riders look impressive in tapered jackets and tight pants, always worn by svelte figures with high, polished leather boots.

I may not be able to swing my leg over the saddle (without a party of five assisting me), but darn it, I want to look like I can. Maybe I just want the figure to wear the pants. Whatever. I am a poser.

This fall’s style guides dictated the return of the equestrian look.  The trend comes around about every five years and I usually catch up every six, so this year, I was keen to look the part.

Unfortunately, much like horse riding lessons of my own, I cannot afford such fashions.

I probably shouldn’t have started with the boots, but I confess, I had a girlie moment recently when I met and fell in love with a pair of black leather knee-high riding boots with the slim foot and the tight leg, elegantly styled for the horrible reality of skinny jeans.

Well, they were called “riding” boots, but I can assure you, there is no way you’d wear these in a barn. These were poser boots meant for runways, not barn stalls.

But I wanted those boots and I know, in their silent way, they wanted me too. Alas, it was not meant to be. It came down to a pair of boots or three months of my daughter’s horse riding lessons and I would rather spend the money on the privilege of watching her, just for the sheer joy of seeing her do what I am too chicken to try. She is not a poser.

Once upon a time, I even tried the western riding fashions, the blue jeans and tapered shirts with the wide belt and bling-ed out belt buckle. I found the perfect one with two hearts surrounded by fake diamonds. It was big, but it spoke to me. It said, “Kelly, let out your inner cowgirl. Yeehaw.”

I have seen those sexy cowgirl types, with long hair and attitude-strutting blue jeans, driving their pick-up trucks. Those are my kind of people.

Sometimes I get to ride in the Carpenter’s garbage-infested pick-up truck, so I could totally be a poser.

I had cowboy boots, as was the fashion in the ‘90s. I loved those boots. I wore out the soles on many a dance floor. Ah, good times. Maybe now I could add a cowgirl hat, because every girl secretly wants one of those bent down low brim hats (you do so).

As a self-proclaimed fashion victim, I admit I made a hasty belt-buckle purchase at the Truck Show. All the cool kids had one. I wanted one too.

Except, I got home and realized that the giant buckle could not flatter a figure that has gone from equestrian tone to looking like Pillsbury Crescent rolls trying to escape spandex.

Nothing should draw attention to my mid-drift. What was I thinking?

Maybe I should stop being a poser and learn to ride a horse, then I would be fit and could squeeze into riding pants and wear really cool boots. The Carpenter would pay to see that. Maybe he should pay for the lessons.