Bridget Redux

I've been driven back to Weightwatchers by an imaginary character. Is that a bad thing?

It was Friday evening; I'd had several days of Bad Headache; the polls showed Romney and Obama in a dead heat; I was in my usual "ohmygodtheweekisoverandI'veaccomplishedNOTHING' mode. So I did what I usually do: I reached for familiar fiction. OK, yes, first I filled my wine glass. And then I pulled Bridget Jones' Diary off the shelf and settled down for some comfort reading.

Except remember how she starts each entry with--wait, what do you mean you've never read Bridget Jones' Diary? OK, click here and order your copy and go read it; get along now; scoot!--so you've read it now, right? Alrighty then, you know how she starts each entry with a log of her weight, "alcohol units," cigarettes, lottery tickets, et.al., plus commentary? e.g. "9 st. 1 lb.  [in the American edition, 127 lbs], alcohol units 2, cigarettes 0, calories 998 (excellent, v.g., perfect saint-style person)."

And you know how she's supposed to be this lovely but chubby woman?

Well, I now weigh rather more than chubby Bridget. Crisis. Back to Weightwatchers! Because while lovely but chubby Bridget does end up with Colin Firth and gets to sleep with Hugh Grant along the way,  let's face it, I probably won't.

Power Points: 2 Nutrigrain whole wheat waffles: 5 pts, 1 1/2 teaspoons low-fat peanut butter: 1 pt, coffee and skim milk: 1 pt. Gah! 2 alcohol units = 8 pts. Only 11 pts left for entire rest of day's food allotment and it's 7 am. Not perfect, saint-style person.