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 October 9, 2007
DAY 253  |  October 9, 2007
If a seven-year old ever asks you to play “mummy” with him, just say no. I complied with Dan’s request because I thought it was an imaginary game—until he had me lay down on the blankets he had neatly positioned on the floor. Within two seconds, he had me wrapped up tighter than a straight jacket, threw pillows on top of me to form his own little bed, and let the dog lick my face. Next time, I’m going to be smarter than the seven-year old.
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