Um, I just read this article in the LA Weekly about adults that enjoy pretending to be ponies. ?!?!??!?!?!?!?!?!?!?! PONIES. Wow. WTF. Pause. WTF?!?!?!??!?!?! If you are interested in the article, here is how it starts out:
A horse is a horse, of course, of course, except if it's actually a human. A woman known as Submiss Ann is a 54-year-old mother and grandmother and former children's party planner. In her off time, she enjoys pretending to be a pony.
Ann, who prefers that her last name remain private, often goes to deserted parking lots in the night with her trainer, Madac. They knot off a 100-foot clothesline at 5-foot intervals, set up a makeshift corral, and he takes her through her paces. She wears a headdress with long, blond, genuine palomino horsehair that matches her own long, blond human hair. She has a closet full of horsey stuff: stirrups and bridles and shoes with horse hooves on them.
She talks about this matter-of-factly, as if talking about dry cleaning.
"It's a very natural role-play," she says. "When I see my grandson, he'll push me to the ground, and he'll say pony Grandma! Pony! And he'll hop on my back, and take my braid, and we'll play pony. There's no reason that you have to stop that just because you get older. It still has the same fun."
Ann discovered pony play at age 50, and she isn't any old glue-factory nag. She sees herself as a Lipizzaner, a famous breed of Viennese horse known for its acrobatic prowess, which suits Ann's athleticism. She is slim and muscular with a long, bonny face and cheery aspect.
She submerges herself into the pony role, into the depths of pleasing her master. "It's a strong bond, like the one between you and your pet. When you walk your dog on a leash, does your dog feel subservient? Does your dog feel proud? There are many ways to look at that relationship."
Ann met her trainer, Madac, at a Hollywood party. There he was, this tall, handsome man, and she went trotting up to him and playfully put her reins in his hand. The introduction was less baffling than it sounds, as this was a party for sadomasochists, which Ann had been dabbling in during the weekends, when her kids were away at their dad's place.
In her mind, nothing compares to being a pony, to the incredible feeling of trotting across an obstacle course blindfolded while her trainer yells, "Giddyup." At those times, the conversation in her head drops out — the doubts, insecurities and nervous daily chatter. When her trainer says "Turn right," she turns right.
She closes her eyes as she speaks. "You're listening to the rhythm of his voice. You're getting into the mode of acting like a pony, moving like a pony. He may brush you with a face brush. You go over your gaits. It's like a game with infinite levels to it. Just like in ballet, there's always more perfection."
To read the rest of the article by Gendy Alimurung, click here.