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 September 20, 2007
DAY 234  |  September 20, 2007
Today I got a compliment on my legs from a coworker (a female, so it wasn’t like it was sexual harassment!). But before my automatic response could leave my lips (“Ughh, I hate them—my legs are way too muscular!”), I held back the words and instead simply said, “Thank you.”

After all, if somebody thinks my legs are nice, why the hell should I try to talk them out of it? As a woman, I’m quick to label any body part that doesn’t resemble an airbrushed model as a flaw, but I’m vowing to change my mindset. I mean, these are the legs that will be with me for the rest of my life and they’re muscular because I run, bike, do yoga and kick box. If losing muscle means sitting still, I’d take my muscular legs a million times over.

So in my 29th year, I’m going to stop battling my body and start appreciating it for all the amazing things it does for me. It may be easier said than done, but at least it’s a start.

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