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 July 7, 2007
DAY 159  |  July 7, 2007
I met the cutest baby in the world today! I rode my bike in the 95-degree heat over to my pal Holly’s house to meet her little man (she’s also the mother of this here site,

True to my Lost Girl moniker, I got totally turned around trying to make it back to Williamsburg. I ended up in the rough Bed-Sty Brooklyn neighborhood, and flagged down some guy on a bike to ask for directions. He kindly showed me the way, and then asked if I wanted to join him for dinner at a restaurant on the corner.

“Um, thanks, but I live my boyfriend,” I said nervously. Immediately after the words popped out, I wanted to slap my forehead or stick my foot in my mouth. Why the heck did I say that?! The lie was my automatic reply. Maybe I’m scared of meeting new people after years of being with only one man.

I pedaled away—wishing I could take back the words. The guy yelled, “Be careful and put your helmet on!” Sure, Dad!

I’m vowing to be more open to hanging with new guys. I mean, I can’t keep to myself forever.

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