Page 152 - Bridget Jones's Diary - by Helen FIELDING
P. 152
7.30 p.m. Oh, Bloody Hell.
Friday 9 June
9st 2, alcohol units 7, cigarettes 22, calories 2145, minutes spent inspecting face
for wrinkles 230.
9 a.m. Hurrah! Night out with girls tonight.
7 p.m. Oh no. Turns out Rebecca is coming. An evening with Rebecca is like
swimming in sea with jellyfish: all will be going along perfectly pleasantly then
suddenly you get painful lashing, destroying confidence at stroke. Trouble is,
Rebecca's stings are aimed so subtly at one's Achilles' heels, like Gulf War
missiles going 'Fzzzzzz whoossssh' through Baghdad hotel corridors, that never
see them coming. Sharon says am not twenty-four any more and should be
mature enough to deal with Rebecca. She is right.
Midnight. Argor es wororrible. Am olanpassit. Face collapsin.
