Watch Me Turn 30, by Holly C.
I'm a 29-year-old New Yorker who inherited this site from my pal, Holly P., to document the final year of my twenties. Right up until I turn the big 3-0 next January, I'll use this blog to indulge my inner-narcissist by voicing the good (I can date men anywhere from ages 21 to 50 without it being scandalous) the bad (I keep getting ma'amed) and the ugly (is it possible to get cellulite on your stomach?!). Here's to waving goodbye to my youth, accepting adulthood and remembering that every ending is really just a new beginning.
the photo for January 30, 2007
DAY 1  |  January 30, 2007
I may be a full-fledged adult, but I felt like a kid playing dress up when I put on high heels and red lipstick for my big birthday celebration in Hanoi, Vietnam. I’ve been traveling around the world with two of my best friends, and we’d ditched our trendy handbags for hefty backpacks about eight months ago. I didn’t even own heels, so we spent the day wandering through the shoe market while Vietnamese women pointed at our feet and laughed out loud at our big “farang” (slang for white people) size eights.

We went to dinner at the fancy Hilton Opera Hotel, then wore out our new dancing shoes at The New Century Club before getting shots of Baileys and pizza at a tiny lounge called Dragon Fly. Not a bad way to celebrate the beginning of the end (a.k.a. the last year of my twenties). Determined to live up the last of our youth, Amanda (, Jen and I saved our cash and quit our day jobs to embark upon the ultimate girlfriends getaway—a yearlong, around-the-world adventure.

Disclaimer: I’ll jot down an entry for each of the next 364 days, but may have to put them up in batches (some islands in Asia don’t have wi-fi, people!).

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