Being a woman is worse than being a farmer - there is so much harvesting and crop, spraying to be done: legs to be waxed, underarms shaved, eyebrows plucked, feet pumiced, skin exfoliated and moisturized, spots cleansed, roots dyed, eyelashes tinted, nails filed, cellulite massaged, stomach muscles exercised. The whole performance is so highly tuned you only need to neglect it for a few days for the whole thing to go to seed. Sometimes I wonder what I would be like if left to revert to nature - with a full beard and handlebar moustache on each shin, Dennis Healey eyebrows, face a graveyard of dead skin cells, spots erupting, long curly fingernails like Struwelpeter, blind as bat and stupid runt of species as no contact lenses, flabby body flobbering around. Ugh, ugh. Is it any wonder girls have no confidence?
The book is definitely better than the movie, which was Hollywoodized into a mere "funny chick flick". Without the inner monologues of Bridget Jones, the silver screen Bridget Jones is merely the butt of jokes and appears rather superficial. Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed the movie because it was entertaining, but the book offers more than just comedy or clichรฉd romance and is much funnier than the movie itself. Although there are many British pop culture references and slang that went right over my head, I still found the book quite funny and witty most of the time. It trails off a bit near the end, however, and the ending is kind of an anti-climax (and quite different from the movie), but overall, I enjoyed reading it. It's been quite a while since I read anything humourous. After reading consecutive plays of Shakespeare and 'literary' books, it was quite refreshing reading something light and was written after I was born.
Oh, and I want Bridget Jones's friends. They are the coolest!
8/10