The worst thing about my entire situation has got to be the food.
Now don’t get me wrong, Equestrian food is amazing. Since coming here I’ve discovered the joys of daisies, vegetables have never tasted so good, and the fruits practically explode with flavor. Despite that, there is still something I’ve missed eating over the past twenty-five years that I’m sure anyone in my position would miss.
I miss meat. Steaks cooked well-done, chicken battered and fried, bacon! For all that is good in this world, I would give it up just to be able to eat one more slice of bacon. I know we ponies can eat some meats, but I get tired of meager portions of fish. Plus, I’ve talked to several cows myself and I would never condone the killing of another sapient creature just to fill the empty void where meat once live.
I should explain. Though I appear as a pony, and have been one for twenty-five years, I was once something entirely different: I was a human. I won’t bore the average Equestrian that decided to read my book with descriptions of what I looked like, as that really doesn’t matter to me. Any human reading this, if any, would already know what they look like - so really the point is moot.
Instead, this chapter serves to help my fellow humans get used to the small and typically unremarkable things that will be lost upon becoming a pony. It’s amazing how that which was once inconsequential can become something that causes your entire day to come to a screeching halt as you consider the differences between humans and ponies. It’s the little things that have the biggest effects.
It’s not that physically becoming a pony is easy. As I detail in a later portion of this book, transformation magic is either instant and painless - one moment you’re human and then stop: ponytime - or it’s slow and agonizing as you feel your square peg get forced into a round hole.
But, and I say this with complete sincerity: I miss popping my knuckles. Cognitively, I know that magic can do everything that hands can do and far, far more than that. I just miss the sharp shock and instant relief that came from the sensation. Posture is another thing you’ll miss; I swear I regret it every day that I didn’t sit or walk with good posture, as for the entirety of my time as a pony I have felt like I am slumping over about to fall the moment I think about how walking actually works.
Makes me glad I’m not a pegasus. Not that there’s anything wrong with being one; I just would have crashed and burned a long time ago. There are times I still try to walk around on my rear hooves before falling on my face. I’m clumsy enough as it is without extra appendages.
One thing I’m sure that someone from my generation would miss has got to be the Internet. For the ponies reading this book, the Internet is a concept far too immense to capture here. In it’s basest form it was a way of connecting computers together to share data. Modern Equestrian computers are still far from capable of this feat. Human computers started that way, too, and they would eventually become a device that was given so little thought that it was expected that you carry one with you in your pocket.
Looking back, I don’t see how I ever could have done that. For all you ponies out there, imagine a great library filled with almost everything ever written. Imagine the ability to access that accumulated sum of knowledge at the press of a button, from anywhere. Imagine being able to instantly communicate with somepony on the complete opposite side of the world.
Got it? Now I want you to imagine that technology becoming so commonplace that it is taken for granted by the general population. Equestrian technology is progressing at an amazing rate, but everything I see reminds of what I lost. By the Moon’s light, Equestria has only just invented color television, and even with that I’m more likely to find a radio is somepony’s house.
My point here is that our worlds are so incredibly different. It’s easy to forget that sometimes. When I see trains, coffee shops, fast food restaurants, these things make me forget sometimes that the world I live in is not my first. Ponies are like humans in a lot of ways, but it’s the little differences that get to you. Adjusting to food, to new beings, to having your entire worldview shattered into millions of tiny pieces. You know, little things. In twenty five years as a pony I, still can’t see the differences between two faces. I’ve given up hope that I ever will - but then again, I was never good with faces as a human. It gives me a source of comfort knowing that I’m still not good at recognizing ponies. It helps me remember who I am, and who I was.
I suggest you find something to hold on to as well, oh fellow-human-turned-pony. You may encounter ponies who will deny that you could ever have existed as you remember; you may encounter ponies who don’t understand why you can’t perform the most basic of tasks; you may encounter new experiences and new sensations that feel far more real than anything you remember feeling as a human. You may even start to question your prior humanity. All I can say is that you should hold on to your past. Learn from it. You just might have been given the second chance you never knew you needed in life.
Besides, being a pony ain’t so bad. I’ve seen earth ponies destroy massive boulders with less force that I would use to pop a balloon. I’ve seen a pegasus break the sound barrier, unaided by any enhancing equipment or technology. I’ve the most miraculous displays of magic that the greatest and most powerful of unicorns can conjure up. As a human I ignored the wonders around me, but I implore any former humans and all ponies to look for these amazing feats performed by ponies. We live in a world of magic, and it is filled to the brim with fantastical things that I still don’t understand. Anything can happen here. Impossible is merely unlikely.
But that doesn’t mean I don’t miss bacon. By all of Luna’s Stars, my best dreams are the ones where I can eat bacon.