I am so in love with the Bridget Jones’s Diary movies, because she is me and I am her. We are one and the same. I adore Bridget in every way. I don’t judge her when she makes horrible and undisciplined decisions regarding men. And I understand when her goal of losing 20 pounds is thwarted because she ate the entire contents of her refrigerator after she got dumped. And I totally get her when she’s sitting at home alone on New Years, drinking wine and singing along to All By Myself by Celine Dion. I was thinking of Bridget while I was sitting at home alone on Christmas Eve eating frozen squash raviolis and watching Slapshot. I had grand plans for a fun filled night, starting with a handsome date and then heading to a friend's house for a party. But Mr. McHotStuff had to cancel due to some family flying in for a Christmas surprise and the party being canceled because the hostess went into labor 6 weeks early. So the next day I'm supposed to head up to Snowbird with some friends to take advantage of the mountain being totally deserted, but they bailed on me too. I decide to fly a solo mission and am having a great time exploring the mountain when I end up on the ski lift with this woman who, after some chit chat, starts sobbing and telling me how her husband just left her, and her two teenaged children decided that they wanted to live with him and how lonely she is now. She was so lovely and my heart ached for her as I hugged her while she cried up there on the chairlift. Then she looked up at me and asked why I, being such a beautiful and sweet girl, was up on the mountain all by herself. My ocular cavities started to leak and we turned into this pathetic sight – two strangers, hugging each other and crying on the chairlift on Christmas morning. We took a few runs together (she was one of the most incredible skiers that I have ever seen!) and then exchanged phone numbers and promised to call whenever we need a skiing buddy or a hug. It was tender. I then went home and watched Bridget Jones’s Diary for the billionth time that week. I find great comfort in Bridget’s story. My heart soars when Bridget ends up with Mark Darcy, a gorgeous and successful human rights lawyer that likes her just the way that she is. He actually says, “I like you. Very much. Just the way you are.” And when her friends find out what Mark said to her, they ask, “Not thinner? Or cleverer? With slightly bigger breasts and a slightly smaller nose?” Nope, he likes her just as she is. And I think that’s what I yearn for. Embarrassing and awkward things happen to me quite regularly, and even though I try to appear socially with-it, I’ve always felt like one of the weird kids. And I’m waiting for the person that actually loves that about me.
Bridget finally gets her marriage proposal and her parting words at the end of the second movie are, “Happiness can be found, even if you are 33 and have a bottom the size of two bowling balls.” Amen, Bridget.
