Page 138 - Bridget Jones's Diary - by Helen FIELDING

'What?' I said, miserably.

'I'm taking you to have your colours done' And don't keep saying, "what",
please, darling. Color Me Beautiful. I'm sick to death of you wandering round in
all these dingy slurries and fogs. You look like. something out of Chairman
Mao.'

'Mum. I can't really talk, I'm expecting . . . '

'Now come along, Bridget. I don't want any silliness,' she said in her Genghis-
Khan-at-height-of-evil voice. 'Mavis Enderby used to be all miserable in buffs
and mosses, now she's had hers done she comes out in all these wonderful
shocking pinks and bottle greens and looks twenty years younger.

'But I don t want to come out in shocking pinks and bottle greens, 'I said,
through clenched teeth.

'Well you see darling, Mavis is Winter. And I'm Winter, but you might be
Summer like Una and then you'll get your pastels. You can't tell till they get the
towel on your head.'

'Mum, I'm not going to Color Me Beautiful,' I hissed, desperately.

'Bridget, I'm not listening to any more of this. Auntie Una was just saying the
other day: if you'd had something a bit more bright and cheerful on at the turkey
curry buffet Mark Darcy might have shown a bit more interest. Nobody wants a
girlfriend who wanders round looking like someone from Auschwitz, darling.'
Thought better of boasting to her about having a boyfriend despite being dressed
from head to toe in slurry but prospect of Daniel and self becoming hot topic for

discussion precipitating relentless stream of feedback folk-wisdom from Mum
dissuaded me. Eventually got her to shut up about Color Me Beautiful by telling
her I would think about it.