I have been a member at the Raiker YMCA for many years—it is one of the largest gymnasiums in the capital of Indiana.  On this particular day, the “Y” was bustling with all sorts of kids’ activities going on within the various areas of the massive grassy areas outside.  All areas of the gym were being utilized by folks of every age.  The free weights were used by the younger people, as it was summertime and classes had just let out for summer vacation.

        The very young children and the “water wings”, the young swimmers had just exited the pool, their allotted time in the water was up.  A group of much older women approached the pool, gingerly dropped their towels and posed at the edge of the pool.  Of one accord, this particular group of women, ages 62-75, raised their arms and dove gracefully into the water, causing hardly a ripple.  They surfaced, and immediately all went into a backstroke, silently slicing the water with flabby, weathered arms.

        “What do you thing about Mildred’s entry into the pie bake-off?” started Florence, the tall, lanky woman of the group. 

        Maxine piped up, “Oh, her sugar cream pie was just scrumptious, and has won 1st Prize the last couple of years…but Gertrude’s rhubarb pie will give her a run for her money!”  Mildred and Gertrude were not with the women swimming that day, but were members of their little group.

        Victoria was the first to climb out of the water and sprawl out on her plush white towel.  “Amanda,” Victoria remarked, “what do you think about taking in a matinee today?  Is anyone game?”  Rhen and Betty nodded in agreement as they all had said earlier they wanted to see the new Sean Connery movie playing at the Rivoli, which was located in a quaint section of the large metropolis.

        Hannah, the “nature lover” in the group, exclaimed as she clasped her hands, “Oh! Let’s go down to Plum Creek and pick strawberries for shortcake!”    Rhen, the pretty redhead with a chirp to her voice said, “I don’t care what we do…..just do we enjoy this glorious day that God has given us!” 

        So the seven women decided to swim a little longer “for their hearts’ sakes”, and then retired to the locker room to finalize their plans for the rest of the afternoon.  What a sight as the friendly group dragged all of their gym and pool-side paraphernalia into the locker room!  It was almost comical as they laughed and chatted and huffed and puffed.  I quietly retreated to my own locker which was in eye- and ear-shot of the “older ladies of the Y.”

        It was here in the locker room where I learned the most about these ladies of at least six decades in age.  I was fumbling with the lock on my locker as the ladies were stripping down, shedding their wet swimsuits.  Minutes of animated chatter and moments of reflective silence were shared by the seven, who were at ease with themselves and each other.   

        How different yet how similar this locker room of older women here at the “Y” must be as compared to the men’s locker room.  There was no flipping of wet towels, to be sure!  Yet there was much laughter and sincere camaraderie amongst the participants in this particular little group.  And how unabashedly they were lounging about….on the bench, on the floor….towels draped carelessly about their bodies, with more skin and “privates” showing than not!  Ohmygosh!  These “Ladies of the Y” were quite the jocks!  And I chuckled to myself, as I stared openly at them, yet my staring went unnoticed by the group. 

        “Anyone else for a shower?” interjected Rhen, as she moved her heavily varicose-veined legs towards the showers.  Florence sprang up from where she sat, and stretched, revealing only one breast, and one scar where the other breast had been.  Victoria, the heaviest among the women, had thighs and buttocks jiggling as she trotted to catch up with Florence in the showers.

        To my utter amazement, the scene I had witnessed was so unlikely to be comprised of women over the age of 60, let alone women---in general.  None of these women were self-conscious about there bodies, their defects or flaws, or how they looked to each other.  There was total acceptance of self and each other.  The scene before made a mark in my memory, with startling clarity.

        I sat down on my bench, and slowly put on my dry, clean clothes.  Out of the corner of my eye, I studied the women nearby:  the proud women , comfortable in their own skins, were true to the slogan, “You’ve come a long way, baby.”  The sagging flesh, the wrinkled faces, the thinning hair, the varicose veins were all badges of a life triumphantly and courageously lived to the fullest - having won those badges along the way.  As Victoria stretched, Hannah put lotion on her legs and Amanda bushed her new growth of hair, resulting from having completed chemotherapy months before.  And these friendships probably had flourished because of the strong characters and determined optimism of the women.

        I hope that as I age and mature, I learn to accept myself, and all my warts.  I look forward to the fact that I fully reach the realization that my flaws are other than just imperfections.  They are trophies of bravery and monumental courage—of lessons learned, but not necessarily without great struggle.

        My throat tightened at the witnessing the steadfast friendship among these women, and the emotions arising within my own being.  How I envied  those ladies at the Y that day, and others like them:  that they can endure the roughest storms and enjoy the prettiest sunsets – all with the continuity of each other’s hope and strength.

Copyright  © 8-3-00  Amy L. Allison  (revised 8/2006)

(This story was a true observation made within a local YMCA.  These "Ladies of the Y" are an inspiration of feminine courage in being comfortable with who we are...no matter what the age or condition of our outward appearances.  Our "human overcoats", if you will, should not be a hindrance.)