Day 13- A movie that you used to love but now hate
My family has a bad habit of watching movies into the ground. Something becomes beloved and one of us gets excited about it and wants to watch it over and over again. And over. And over. Eventually it stops being beloved to the rest of the family and becomes fiercely hated.
The most overplayed of all (at least in my house) was Bridget Jones’s Diary. The first couple of times I watched the movie I thought it was cute. Chubby Renee Zellweger was delightful with her fake British accent and horrible taste in Hugh Grant. Colin Firth is Colin freaking Firth (enough said). I could understand why my mom fell in love with the movie. She was a single woman in her late 30s/early 40s looking for love. She has been both a lifelong journal keeper and romantic. It makes sense that she would be able to connect with Bridget, even though my mom is way better than Renee Zellweger. WAY BETTER.
It started with Mom watching Bridget fall in love with Daniel and Mark (Hugh and Colin, respectively) about once a week. We would laugh together over the blue string soup and the bunny costume at the formal party. We’d have a sad over Bridget finding the skinny American in the bathroom. We’d cheer when Bridget realized she should be with Mark, who liked her just the way she was.
Quickly the weekly turned into what seemed like (and may very well have been) daily viewing. I couldn’t enter the living room without seeing Bridget slide down a fireman’s pole or wear a see-through blouse to work. And seriously, who does that? Unless you’re a prostitute, you should always check the sheerness of your blouse before leaving the house. Especially before work. Her cute spaciness was no longer endearing but annoying.
Things came to a head when we caught Mom watching the movie twice in one day. Time to vote the dumb blonde off the island. Good bye inappropriately short skirts and Hugh’s smirk. Farewell ugly Christmas sweaters and misunderstandings that could easily be cleared up if everyone just said what they were really feeling. Bridget was no longer welcome in the house.
Now when Mom suggests watching the movie we know she’s joking. Mostly. We all groan and roll our eyes in unison, quite a sight to see. I can now say that I haven’t seen Bridget Jones’s Diary in years. And I would be happy if it remained that way.