At the YMCA

I happened to be in the locker room of the local YMCA the other day as the senior water aerobics class was getting out. Seven or so old women made there way from the pool to the showers and into the changing area. One woman used a walker, another a cane, one's thoracic spine curved up into a round arc. They, as I, were in various stages of undress. It wasn't only out of politeness that I kept my gaze down. I was afraid of seeing, really seeing, what old bodies looked like. But, then I got curious. Afterall, I will be old, maybe very old, someday (hopefully) and I wondered what it might look like.

I saw a thin woman whose skin hung like a loose blanket over her entire body. Her skin folded in on itself like a delicate Japanese fan. I was impressed that she could still balance on one foot and bend down from standing to put her socks on. Another woman was very round with hardly any wrinkes. She had to sit down in order to dress and moved slowly. One woman complained to another that her hair was so thin now, "Like a baby's!" There were several scars, bruises, red spots, and moles.

I was reminded of the long purple scar that ran down my grandmother's big belly. The scar ran through her belly button which no longer lined up properly but lay askew and divided. It was startingly to discover but then became a familiar landmark. I found beauty in that scar because it lay on my grandmother's belly.

There is so much more beauty in all bodies than Madison Avenue would have us believe. (Yikes, might I have middle-aged skin!!!) Scars, blanket folds of skin, square waists, chicken necks, something unique to love, cherish, behold.