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 April 14, 2007
DAY 75  |  April 14, 2007
No, Iím not getting hitched. Iím just following the crowd at a book party Simone took us to and trying on one newly-engaged memberís ring as it was passed around the circle. When it comes to diamonds, Iím completely clueless. As Jen tried to explain the difference between an emerald- and princess-cut, I told her I didnít really care about size (at least not in regards to jewelry). Her jaw dropped and she tried to convince me otherwise.

Itís not like Iíd turn down a big rock, but I donít really see the point of shelling out thousands of dollars on ring when that money could be spent on a kick-ass honeymoon or the down payment on an apartment. I donít need a flashy ring as proof of somebodyís love for me or to impress my friends. I hadnít even realized Iíd given it that much thought until now. I guess if you hang out with enough women in their late twenties, weddings are always a topic of conversation.

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