It’s back!! All through the month of July, we are running our annual Dressage For Every Body campaign on #YourDressage, and we’re teaming up with our friends at SmartPak again to offer some incredible prizes for our readers and writers!
Each year that we’ve run this campaign, we’ve used it to highlight size inclusivity in dressage, and to give a voice to those who have felt like they don’t fit the stereotypical image of a rider. We’ve featured stories of resilience, courage, kindness, and confidence, and we want to continue to encourage and inspire riders of all sizes, because #EveryBodyIsADressageBody
We recently asked to hear from riders who consider themselves plus-size or were plus-size at one time for a chance to be featured in our Dressage For Every Body galleries or to share their story, and win some awesome prizes!
Here, a rider shares how she manages her anxiety and body dysmorphia after significant weight loss with the help of her Appendix dance partner.
By Sarah Pack
Hi there! I’m Sarah, and my dance partner is a ten-year-old Appendix gelding named Nox. Our partnership began four years ago, purely by chance.
When I was horse-hunting, my original intention was to find a beefy, older, well-traveled horse that needed to take a step down. As a plus sized rider, height and bone were important to me, and I wanted something steady to build my confidence.
But, since fate has a sense of humor, I ended up with a tall, underweight, unnamed, young gelding with no formal under-saddle education, who hadn’t been sat on in a year. The decision to buy him was made nearly immediately. I was drawn to his quiet, playful demeanor and his willingness to try. He did his best to answer each question I asked, and despite his scruffy coat and lack of knowledge, his potential was unmistakable. I brought him home and named him “Nox”—Latin for “night”—because his chestnut coat was dotted with birdcatcher spots that looked like stars.
When Nox came home, we began his foundational dressage training. With his height, long frame, and minimal education, he was gangly, awkward, and often couldn’t find his feet. We started working on the basics, focusing not only on building balance, forwardness, and strength, but also developing suppleness and flexibility through lateral work. Each ride was about developing rhythm, responsiveness, and engagement, which helped his gaits become more fluid and expressive over time.
Just as Nox was ready to begin showing, I hit an unexpected setback — a shoulder surgery (unrelated to him) sidelined me for nearly six months. I wasn’t allowed any physical activity, especially not handling horses. By the second month, I was itching to ride, but I obeyed the doctor’s orders and remained on the bench.
Fortunately, a few timely opportunities arose to lease him to young riders in need of a show-season partner. It was the perfect arrangement: Nox gained valuable experience in the ring and stayed fit, while I focused on healing. I was absolutely tickled to see my sweet young horse, who had barely begun his journey, become so steady and willing. He even brought home multiple championship ribbons for his riders!
When I was cleared by the doctor to get back in the saddle, we started taking dressage lessons with USDF Bronze and Silver medalist Danielle Bertholf. Nox flourished under her tutelage, but six months out of the saddle hadn’t done me any favors. I’d gained weight, my cardio fitness was shot, and I could barely get through a lesson without gasping for breath or needing breaks, even in the cold. My confidence was gone. My mind knew what I needed to do, but my body couldn’t keep up. I felt like I was letting my horse down. That moment was a wake-up call.
I had always been fairly confident about my size and hadn’t faced the kind of bullying that many of my plus-sized friends endured. In that sense, I was lucky. But I think that comfort held me back from truly realizing just how much weight I had gained. After acknowledging my weaknesses in the saddle, and realizing that my health was being affected, I got serious about making a change.
I started hitting the gym several days a week, focusing on mobility and strength training. I cut carbs, upped my protein, and stuck to a nutrition plan. Nox and I continued our dressage lessons and, after a few months, attended our first straight dressage show, finishing with just over 70% in both Training 1 and Training 2. I was ecstatic – my horse was feeling great, I was feeling fitter and more confident, and I was seeing results.
As we continued our dressage journey, our rides grew more balanced, our scores improved, and our connection deepened. Each ride became more of a conversation than a command, and I started to trust both Nox and myself in a new way. We both became stronger and fitter, and that growth was evident not just in the ring, but also in how we carried ourselves as a team. My confidence blossomed, to the point that I began trailering Nox to shows on my own—no small feat for someone who once second-guessed every step. What once felt intimidating started to feel empowering.
While my physical transformation is obvious, my mind still carries the weight. After losing 150 pounds, I still struggle with body dysmorphia, anxiety, and depression. I often still see myself as the overweight person who struggled through every half-hour lesson. I still sometimes feel like my body is letting me down or fighting against me. I have little sense of what size my body is now, and my eyes fixate on the parts I dislike in every photo or video. Even though I’m in the best physical shape of my life, I often catch myself thinking self-deprecating thoughts about my size and weight.
This is a part of bettering your health that doesn’t get talked about enough. Body dysmorphia, anxiety, depression, and other mental health challenges affect riders of all ages, sizes, and backgrounds.
Looking at me now, you wouldn’t know that I have lost more than half my body weight, but I still have moments of shame about how I look in breeches. Because I’ve lived this struggle—and continue to live it—I can truly empathize with others who are going through the same. As a result, I’ve become a passionate advocate for mental health wellness among young riders, openly and often discussing it with the 4-H group I volunteer with. That’s why I believe so deeply in the message, “Dressage is for every body.”
So, how have I addressed my mental health challenges? First and foremost, I remind myself to do more of what genuinely brings me joy. My weight doesn’t matter, my loose skin doesn’t matter, and how I look in breeches doesn’t matter. What truly matters are the experiences I get to share with my horse, and the moments that remind me why I fell in love with this journey.
I’ve started practicing affirmations, especially during times of self-doubt, to help reframe my mindset. I’m learning to replace self-criticism with compassion and to treat myself with the same kindness I’d offer a struggling friend. It’s an ongoing process, but each small mental shift helps build a more resilient and grounded version of myself.
We’ve got a long way to go yet, but by the end of the year, Nox and I plan to make our debut at First Level, and we will have (hopefully) completed our first horse trials. None of this would have happened, though, had I not huffed and puffed my way through that first dressage lesson, feeling like I was letting my horse down. That feeling—the desire to be better for him—is what pushed me forward, and dressage gave me the path to get there.
Dressage isn’t just for the tall, thin, or elite. It’s for anyone who is willing to show up, work hard, and ride with heart. Whether you’re in breeches for the first time or chasing upper-level dreams, know this: you belong. Dressage is for every body—and every body has a place in the arena.
