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 13, 2007
DAY 15  |  February 13, 2007
I wasnít one hundred percent better this a.m., but improved enough to take the full-day tour to Maymyo, a hilly resort town filled by the British with colonial-style houses and gorgeous botanical gardens. Big mistake. Our bus tackled hairpin turns sharp enough to induce nausea in even the healthiest of stomachs. And Iíd say at least half of the passengers were recovering from food poisoning.

Our smiley tour guide, who was short on historical information and long on random facts, was kind enough to share a tale about using the bathroom on a trip to China. The kicker: The toilets were out in the great wide open so he purchased a Chinese newspaper (he doesnít read or speak Chinese) to hide his face behind while he did his business. I think Iíve had enough bathroom talk for a long, long time.

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