4 Stars
Like so many others out there the holidays can sometimes get me feeling blah. Not like seasonal depression or can’t-get-out-of-bed kind of depression, more like just . . . . “meh.” In an effort to combat that, I do things like going balls out on Christmas decorating well before Thanksgiving, making giant Sunday dinners with all the fixins as soon as the leaves start to change in case I turn into a “please just go get Taco Bell” kind of Mom between Thanksgiving and the New Year and tipping the scales heavier than usual when it comes reading/watching things of the feel good rather than the stabby variety. Thus is the case with Bridget Jones and her diary.
I’m not a big re-reader (but I am HUGE re-watcher). My family always knows I’m about to go spelunking in the basement for decorations as soon as I’ve watched Christmas Vacation (usually as close as possible to the day after Halloween) and it becomes hot cocoa, cookies, snuggly blanket and cozy reads season with the annual viewings of Serendipity and Bridget Jones’ Diary. There’s just something about moments like these . . . .
Oh and just in case you’re wondering if I’m a pod person, I assure you I’m not. In my world it’s not officially Christmas until this happens . . . .
Greatest Christmas movie ever. Period.
It seems ol’ Bridge is a fail for the newer generation. The only thing I can say is this is not a story that’s meant to be taken seriously so if you’re not in on the joke, it definitely won’t work for you. Put yourself in the mindset of geriatrics like me and Bridget . . . .
“I am a child of Cosmopolitan culture, have been traumatized by supermodels and too many quizzes and know that neither my personality nor my body is up to it if left to its own devices.”
Realize that Bridget’s inner dialogue regarding weight, alcohol and cigarettes is more of a “first world problem” type of confessional rather than an “I’m going to go stick my head in the oven because I’m a morbidly obese drunk with lung cancer and no one will ever love me” admission.
I’m not a big re-reader (but I am HUGE re-watcher). My family always knows I’m about to go spelunking in the basement for decorations as soon as I’ve watched Christmas Vacation (usually as close as possible to the day after Halloween) and it becomes hot cocoa, cookies, snuggly blanket and cozy reads season with the annual viewings of Serendipity and Bridget Jones’ Diary. There’s just something about moments like these . . . .
Oh and just in case you’re wondering if I’m a pod person, I assure you I’m not. In my world it’s not officially Christmas until this happens . . . .
Greatest Christmas movie ever. Period.
It seems ol’ Bridge is a fail for the newer generation. The only thing I can say is this is not a story that’s meant to be taken seriously so if you’re not in on the joke, it definitely won’t work for you. Put yourself in the mindset of geriatrics like me and Bridget . . . .
“I am a child of Cosmopolitan culture, have been traumatized by supermodels and too many quizzes and know that neither my personality nor my body is up to it if left to its own devices.”
Realize that Bridget’s inner dialogue regarding weight, alcohol and cigarettes is more of a “first world problem” type of confessional rather than an “I’m going to go stick my head in the oven because I’m a morbidly obese drunk with lung cancer and no one will ever love me” admission.
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