No, I am not talking about Prince George.
If you know me well, you are fully aware of my love of Bridget Jones. I have only read half of the first book, so my admiration is solely based on Renée Zellweger’s portrayal in the two movies (Bridget Jones's Diary, and Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason). Full disclosure: I am not Zellweger’s biggest fan, to say the least, which is why I am surprised that I love this character so much. In fact, I feel as if I am watching a documentary of a lovelorn, plump British woman trying to come to turns with her lack of self-esteem.
Without throwing a pity party, I deeply relate to Jones and her misgivings. I, too, have issues with my weight, addiction to cigarettes, relationships, and inability to realize that world is not against me. We are cut from the same cloth, so to speak, even though I am not British or a white female. Actually, her circumstances are much better than mine. She has her own apartment, her parents are reasonably supportive and she has Colin Firth and Hugh Grant pining over her (sigh). Basically, she is a more successful version of me, or at least me in 10 years (fingers crossed).
We all have a little bit of Bridget Jones in us. You know, that feeling of intense insecurity followed by the realization that you are “perfect just the way you are” (a quote from film). And if you don’t this, you do now.