Young man, there’s a place you can go.
I said, young man, when you’re short on your dough,
You can stay there, and I’m sure you will find
Many ways to have a good time.
⁓The Village People, “YMCA”
It’s official. I am in love with the Young Men’s Christian Association, also known as the YMCA. On Wednesdays, my one-year-old son Harry and I like to chill at the indoor pool. On Fridays, I spin while he hangs with the other babies at the Y daycare center, and on weekends we throw balls around the gymnasium. It’s our winter playground and for New York City, it’s unusually affordable. Its also necessary—even though it’s chilly outside, Harry wants out of our apartment by 10 AM. He can push his wooden cart up and down our hallway only so many times. I almost signed up for a baby gym and music class that would have put us out $780, but then I came to my senses. I love when Harry shakes his little hips and slams pots and pans on my kitchen floor, but I don’t need to spend money to see him do it.
Pre-Harry, the Y and I had a different relationship. For instance, 13 months ago, I avoided the ladies locker room at all costs (I’m not a fan of communal changing areas.) Nowadays, stripping down in front of complete strangers is no big deal. Getting Harry out of his regular clothing and into a swim diaper and bathing suit without him touching the wet, germ-infected floor is all that really matters. The fact that my non-manicured feet, my tattered bra (bought during high school), and my butt (which could be a wee bit firmer) are on full display is an afterthought. If I remember to shave and bring flip-flops, I consider it a good day.
One Y requirement that I just couldn’t be bothered with pre-Harry was the swim cap policy. That, and the fact that to swim means to put on a bathing suit, are why I had never seen the pool before Harry’s birth. Now, however, Wednesday means pool time. Although I absolutely love Harry’s brown curly locks, his adorable face doesn’t lose any of its cuteness when his hair is covered by a tight, black cap. My non-chiseled round face on the other hand, does not do so well without hair. The first few times I went in the water, I tried to avoid all eye contact with other adults in an attempt to shield them from my naked face. Then last week, I met another bald mom in the pool. We chatted about our one-year-olds developments—walking, talking, standing up in the bathtub—and how nice it was to have an affordable place to go in the dead of winter. When I got out of the pool, I wrapped Harry in a towel, climbed the stairs back up to the ladies’ locker room without my flip-flops, and started the changing process all over again. When I finally got him back into dry clothes, I balanced him with one hand on the changing table and used my other hand to dress myself. It wasn’t until I was out of the locker room and halfway to the exit that I realized I still had my swim cap on. It was at that moment that Jane Austin popped into my head (I’m reading Pride and Prejudice for a class). “Vanity and pride are different things,” she says, “though the words are often used synonymously. A person may be proud without being vain. Pride relates more to our opinion of ourselves, vanity to what we would have others think of us.”
I’d like to thank the YMCA, and of course Harry Bear, for officially stripping me of all vanity…for the moment.
Addie Morfoot is a freelance journalist at Daily Variety and is finishing her MFA in creative writing at The New School. Last year, her world turned upside down when she gave birth to her son Harry. Each Monday, she writes about juggling work, school, marriage, and motherhood in the Big Apple.
