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 September 28, 2007
DAY 242  |  September 28, 2007
Since I was feeling so crappy yesterday, I thought getting a haircut would make myself feel better. Wrong! You canít tell from this photo, but the stylist decided to go all artsy on me and cut layers the length of my pinky fingernail smack in the front of my head. WTF? Was he cutting it with his eyes closed? Now Iím going to have to get hair extensions, or be a hermit for a month until it grows out so I donít look like a guy. I thought finding grays were bad, but having a mullet is much worse.

I guess I should have known better than to go to a stylist for the very first time and kick back reading magazines while he chops away. Next time Iím bringing lots and lots of US Weekly celebrity haircut pics so itís clear that the haircut I want does not resemble a mullet in anyway.

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