For a girl who refuses to wear make-up and owns a total of one presentable dress, I’m a pretty big fan of romance-comedies. My rebellious nature does not cover the romance category I guess. In any case, I’m a huge fan of British romance-comedies in particular, simply because I adore their sense of humour. And having a funny accent doesn’t hurt, either.
My absolute favourite romance-comedy has to be Bridget Jones’ Diary. I am in love with the character of Bridget Jones. And I don’t think I’m alone in this. I think the reason Miss Jones appeals to the modern-day woman is that she is the real deal. Nothing about her is perfect. Even her imperfections aren’t perfect. Her diary lets us peer into her innermost thoughts – unabashed hopes, embarrassing fantasies, and the inevitable disappointment when illusion fails to make the transition into reality.
When you watch Bridget Jones, you realize that this character is not a figment of imagination at all. This character exists somewhere in the world – perhaps she even exists everywhere, in all of us. We share her insecurities about our “wobbly bits,” our lack of “legs that go up to there,” and our uncanny ability to make a fool of ourselves. When she’s down, she either sings along to Celine Dion in a drunken stupor and attempts to smoke herself to death, or befriends Ben and Jerry in front of the telly (the latter method is one I’m quite familiar with, and partial to, myself). Yet eventually, inevitably, she pulls herself together and faces the world. She realizes that she has to stand up for herself, because no one else is going to do it for her.
When she finally meets “Mr. Right” after one too many run-ins with “Mr. Wrong,” she can’t quite get herself to trust him. Why? Fundamental truth to most women when we finally meet “Mr. Right”: we don’t think we’re enough. Not pretty enough, not skinny enough, not tall enough, not smart enough, not athletic enough, not funny enough… just not enough. Never enough. And when we see “Mr. Right” with a leggy co-worker, the inadequacies hit home. “Maybe he’d be happier without me. He deserves better anyway,” are just a few of the thoughts running through our minds. The difference between “Mr. Right” and “Mr. Almost Right” is that “Mr. Right” should be able to convince us – eventually – that we are enough.
We all go through that phase. And that’s what astonishes me about Bridget Jones. She is so real. I feel as though I am watching a British version of myself on the screen. I mean, yes, there are many differences between myself and Miss Jones, but our personalities share stunning parallels. I never think before I open my mouth, and therefore, have embarrassed myself one too many times. I have the uncanny ability to command total silence around a room just as I say something incredibly awkward. I try to eat myself to death when I’m down. And, as much as I hate to admit this, I love Celine Dion. The only thing I can cook are omelets. I start out a relationship feeling on top of the world, then soon digress into a series of doubts and suspicions. And finally, I have a kept a diary for as long as I’ve known how to write.
But at least I don’t own leopard-print underwear.