minalisms

I am obsessed with Bridget Jones.

In the past three weeks, Bridget Jones’s Diary has probably aired about nine times on the Oxygen network. In that same timeframe, I think I’ve stopped to watch the movie four times, ecstatic no matter how much I’ve missed or how much of the movie is left.

Today would’ve been a fifth if Ben hadn’t started laughing, thrown his head back in surrender and teased, “Oh, my god! You’ve watched this the same amount of times that I’ve watched ‘Ghostbusters‘!”

For the record, that statement is completely false. Ben has probably watched “Ghostbusters” 40 times.

But, I digress.

Bridget Jones — played flawlessly by Renée Zellweger — is my hero, though she comes in second to Tina Fey.

Jones’s challenging love life, her frequent calamities, her failed resolutions, her boozing and her big butt contribute immensely to her charm. She reminds me of myself and some of the harrowing tribulations I’ve overcome in years past (sans the boozing).

And that comparison, I find, makes me irresistible.