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 11, 2007
DAY 255  |  October 11, 2007
Okay, so we’re not so much camping as staying in a heated, two-bedroom cabin on a lake. But there’s no radio, TV or Internet. That’s roughing it, right?

Besides staring at each other and playing cards, the only thing the four of us can do at night is sit in front of a campfire. Tom and Bryant insisted on making the biggest, brightest fire possible—saying that accomplishing this feat was a like a test of their manhood. Sara and I were content to let roasting the perfect marshmallow count as the test of our womanhood, and we ate s’mores as if it was our last supper.

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