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So, this Sunday, as I step into my fourth decade, I will not be thinking of the one gray hair that appears to the right of my widow's peak, nor will I be counting the little lines that show around my eyes or measuring the creases made on either side of my lips when I smile. If the past 30 years have taught me anything, it is that such things are unimportant. Instead, I'll be relishing the privileges of adulthood and savoring those small moments that are so like the fantasy of my adolescence -- being taken seriously by other adults, sift

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