That awful pronoun
or
Let's face it

Let's face it, my parents are getting old. They're both 80, she has Alzheimer's, he has had colon cancer (removed successfully). Where she once was a strong and vibrant woman and he once took up 'space' in any space he occupied, they are both fading; mere shadows of the powerful people that once ruled my life. Let's face it, my parents are getting old.

As the eldest child, and only daughter, I had to fly out to Washington to visit. They greeted me at the airport, barely recognizing me with Pool bleached hair shortened because the hairdresser had to cut off all the dead ends. I've been putting on weight for years and just this year have been swimming daily to take it back off. It's been working, so I looked smaller too. It was so bittersweet to see them anxiously scanning the faces of all the women coming down the jetway, looking for their daughter. The light in their eyes when they saw me made me feel warm inside.

I stayed a week. They invited their best friends over for dinner one night, we went out to dinner for my birthday, and the rest of the time my mother and I played at playing the organ or we just sat in the sun room and talked. They have a university nearby that offers their Olympic pool to the public from noon until one. I usually swim 90 minutes, so I was there early to be sure to get in as soon as I could.

I'm used to my health club. Bright, polished, with all the amenities for upper-class suburbanites. Seeing the ladies' locker room, a square open room with benches in the center and small rusted, beat up, stickered lockers was a bit of a shock. But I was alone, no big deal. I stripped and went to find the showers. OMG, a single 20 x 20 titled room with showerheads every 4 feet around the walls. No big deal, I started taking a shower.

As I was finishing up and the clock was approaching noon I heard a gaggle of young women's voices coming rapidly down the hall.

Turning the corner, laughing and talking, they came into the shower room and immediately started stripping bathing suits and showering. Perhaps two dozen oh so young twentysomethings in perfect physical shape surrounded me as they passed around shampoo, liquid soap, and conditioner. It was deafening:

"... and then he said, where's Sherry I haven't seen her for a week... and I can't understand how I got a B on that paper, that was easily an A paper... Saturday? Yeah I think we can make Saturday... OMG is this another yeast infection?... who's got my shampoo?... and Sally's hair looks so awful the way she did it, don't you think?... they were only $10.99, I thought you'd like 'em... I hate this suit, the label's scratching me... Eric asked me out, do you think I should go?..."

None of them gave me a second glance as I continued to wash shampoo out of my hair and prepared to put my suit on.

Curiosity got the best of me and so I turned to the young lady closest to me and asked, "are you a swim team? Preparing for a meet?" And then it happened, that awful pronoun.

"No Ma'am."

Time stood still. The racket dimmed. I felt like I'd been slapped. I'd just been ma'am'd by a grown woman.

"We are all in a one-week training course to be lifeguards. My name is Ashley. You here for the public swim?"

"Yes," I said, quickly regaining my composure. "My name is Allison. I hear you have a lovely pool."

"Oh yes, it's the best in this area anyway. Well, have a great swim, we'll all be back at one to resume our class. We only get an hour for lunch you know."

"Cool, perhaps I'll see you then. And I expect to be here every day this week for the public swim. It was nice to meet you."

I went swimming. An hour later, exhausted from having pushed myself to do my 2400 yards that I normally do in 75 minutes on a really good day in only an hour, I dragged myself back to the showers. It was the same thing all over again, only this time they were already suited up and were just rinsing down before doing their warm-up laps.

"Hey Allison," Ashley said, "what did you think of our pool?"

"Absolutely marvelous," I replied. "See you tomorrow."

By the end of the week I had made friends with most of them. At least I knew their names and they knew mine. We had shared casual conversation on a number of topics and I was particularly gratified to have several of them complement me on how well I was swimming. They were very polite and made a point not to say, "for someone your age and weight."

I flew home after my time with my parents was up. It was a good trip. We all three enjoyed getting together again, renewing our bonds, and feeling loved. Donna picked me up at the airport and asked me, "How did it go?"

"Great." I told her what we did, what I had for dinner when we went out, about their friends that they wanted to have meet me, and about the pool. Thinking to make her jealous for a moment, I told her about the lifeguards in the locker room.

She wasn't jealous at all. She laughed and said, "and how did it make you feel to be nude in a room full of naked beautiful women?" I surprised myself as I thought about the answer. I can think of any number of emotions that I would've had should I have found myself in that position at various younger ages of my life. But there I was, standing there soaking wet with soap in my eyes and my hair full of shampoo and as I think back on it, aside from being crushed at being ma'am'd, my first emotion was intimidation. It didn't last long but for that first instant I thought about how my sagging boobs, sagging arms, and sagging belly contrasted so poorly against such perfection. As the intimidation passed, I felt wistful for lost youth and jealous of their toned bodies. How was it possible that that was all I felt?

Donna said, "You're a woman. How else would you feel?"

Yeah, I thought. She's right. I'm a 56 year old woman comparing myself to young beauty. How else would I feel? AND I was Ma'am'd. Let's face it, I'm getting old.

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