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 February 11, 2007
DAY 13  |  February 11, 2007
It’s day two of my cruise through Myanmar up the Ayeyarwady River. Amanda and I skipped the package tour this morning in favor of renting bicycles for $2 from local kids, who escorted us to their “friends’” shops to sell us their goods.

Then we set sail for Mandalay at 10 a.m., and won’t dock until tomorrow. We’re the youngest on the boat by about a decade (it’s not on the backpackers’ circuit, that’s for sure). After mingling with some retirees, we discovered folks onboard were making bets about our age. Their guess? Twenty-three. Woo hoo!

Amanda’s dad and his new wife flew from Florida to take the trip with us, and they came bearing gifts: Packets of Splenda and General Mills cereal. Hey, they asked me for requests, and that’s what I wanted. In a land where they have fish soup for breakfast, I miss my comfort food.

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