Why does a normal (for all intents and purposes) thirty-two-year-old suddenly decide to spend a Friday evening playing around with blog templates and titles… all while watching “Bridget Jones’s Diary?” Perhaps because of a losing battle with loneliness? Or maybe she has been drinking too much bourbon. Or maybe she is suddenly have pop quizzes at work, feels her stomach tighten up, flashes back to physics quizzes, and has a strong desire to both vomit — and beat every single colleague in that room. By a huge margin.
That’s me. I’m just an average lady living in a big city. Taking the train to work, reading the occasional book, dabbling in baking, and feeling like I can’t make a mistake.
I’m ready to tackle those demons that have both propelled me in the world (valedictorian, great scholarships, amazing world adventures) and kept me from flourishing (afraid to speak a foreign language, terrified of the racks in the weight room, and ridiculously emotional when a cake flops). I want to laugh at myself. I want to be able to play games without feeling my face get hot in anticipation of needing a win. And most of all, I want to feel less self-conscious and more confident in my skin. Just like my girl — Bridget.