Watch Me Turn 30, by Holly C.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
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 May 23, 2007
DAY 114  |  May 23, 2007
With all our lazy days spent surfing, Kate and I decided we’ve chilled out enough. So we hit the town to order tapas and wash ‘em down with a bottle of sweet Riesling. Itching to move our feet on solid ground, we busted a move to live music at an outdoor pub named Railway. We couldn’t escape our American roots—or the surf culture—when the lead singer dedicated a Jack Johnson song to the “sisters from New York.”

By the end of the night we were literally dancing on the tables (wow, I haven’t done that since college) and got invited by an Aboriginal man to listen to native stories on the beach. What’s with men inviting us to remote locations? (Don’t worry, Mom—I’m keeping my eye on Katie!).

The Aboriginal dude decided to give me a personal “reading” anyway right there at the bar. “You’re a caring, loving person who is very, very loyal. You appear confident on the outside but are extremely sensitive and emotional on the inside.”

Well, that sounds about right…but, doesn’t this describe everyone? I mean, would any person ever think, “Nope. That’s definitely not me. I’m not at all loving or loyal or sensitive.” I decided to test his questionable psychic powers by asking him how old he thought I was.

“Twenty-three.”

“Nope. I’m twenty-nine.”

His eyes widened in shock and he asked to see my license. (Now, I’m really starting to like this guy!). He went on to say, “I may not be right about your age, but I’m right about this: You’re going to have your first child at 33 years old. And it will be a boy.”

Um, I wasn’t planning on it. But I’m publishing his prediction anyway so I have proof on the off chance that it comes true. There you have it!

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