Page 116 - Bridget Jones's Diary - by Helen FIELDING

'You just seemed, well, flat tonight. Everyone said you weren't your usual

self.'

'No, I was fine. Did you see how thin I am?' Silence.

'Tom?'

'I think you looked better before, hon.'

Now I feel empty and bewildered - as if a rug has been pulled from under my
feet. Eighteen years - wasted. Eighteen years of calorie-and fat-unit-based

arithmetic. Eighteen years of buying long shirts and sweaters and leaving the
room backwards in intimate situations to hide my bottom. Millions of
cheesecakes and tiramisus, tens of millions of Emmenthal slices left uneaten.
Eighteen years of struggle, sacrifice and endeavor - for what? Eighteen years and
the result is 'tired and flat.' I feel like a scientist who discovers that his life's work

has been a total mistake.

Thursday 27 April

Alcohol units 0, cigarettes 0, Instants 12 (v.v. bad, but have not weighed self or
thought about dieting all day; v.g.).

Must stop doing the Instants, but the trouble is I do quite often win. The Instants
are much better than the Lottery itself, because the numbers no longer come up

during Blind Date (it is not on at the moment) and all too often do not have a