Here's to us!

Now that I am back at the gym, albeit moving slowly and for not long (but going further and faster each day) it seems to be an appropriate time to post the second poem I stole from who knows where. This one was written by Lillian Glenn from Brandon, Manitoba. Even though I was assured by my young female surgeon, and by all my even younger female caregivers during my surgery and hospital stay that I am young, I still feel this poem applies to me, and is a celebration of being the age I am and of continuing to do whatever is needed to be as healthy as I can be. Also, I am so grateful to be able to continue going to the gym. Even though I go to the workout room and not to the pool, this poem expresses how I feel and how I feel about all my great friends who, no matter what the number says, are still young!

Old Women at Play

At the Y pool we gather,
Withery old women,
"Be-damned-and-go-to-hell" women.

Laughing sassy dames,
"Forgot your name" dames,
Bold, amazing dames.

In the locker room we undress,
Unashamed of our droopiness,
Our wrinkles, and our sagginess.
We chatter, tease, and share our news,
Then tell the latest racy tale.
We banter, joke, bitch, and amuse.

We're tired of taking things,
Just hate inserting things,
Sick of rubbing on things.

The sleek young women roll their eyes,
Shocked, disgusted by our openness,
Embarassed by our flabbiness.

We are graceful in the water,
Spirits rising, moving lightly,
Floating gracefully, noiselessly.

For an hour we feel release,
Freed from heaviness
And our fate of achiness.

We laugh and grieve together;
Outrageous women,
Courageous women.

Old age is for the old, we say;
Only we can bear it,
With life's experience, embrace it.

We rise from the water,
Proud and daring women,
Brave, surviving women.


Thanks Lillian!