Thoughts of a young, slightly overweight English woman, awaiting rescue by her true love.
******* Day 1 **********
It all began on New Year's Day, in my 32nd year of being single. Once again, I found myself on my own, and very much on my own this time. Every year my mum tries to fix me up with some bushy-haired middle-aged bore, and I had feared this year would be no exception.
However, this year, things had gone from bad to worse. My mother, a strange creature from the time when a gherkin was still the height of sophistication, had really excelled herself. She had once said gaily (her word, not mine!) "Having children is not all it's cracked up to be, darling. Given my chances again, I don't think I'd have any." And now she had disowned me, on the grounds that I wouldn't be likely to produce any grandchildren for her, and I found myself abandoned, and locked up in a castle.
At times like this, continuing with one's life seems impossible, and eating the entire contents of one's fridge would be inevitable, but there is no fridge here, not even one containing a single lump of mouldy cheese. So for the first time in my life, I am losing weight, and my cigarette total has been 0 for some time now, but this is a dreadful way of giving up. This is far worse than being eaten by Alsatians (especially as the castle is guarded by a terrible fire-breathing dragon).
Now I am lying on the bed, gazing into space, wondering if there is any point in going on. My major relationship could be with a dragon who is really supposed to guard me. Perhaps it would be simpler to end it all by jumping out of the window into the hot boiling lava that surrounds the castle, but something falls through the roof...
I look up and see that somebody has just crashed through the ceiling, and landed on a heap in the floor. He stands up; I see from behind that he is a tall, and possibly handsome knight in armour. Ding dong! Maybe mum had sent this person along to rescue me, and maybe she had got it right this time!
Maybe not. He turns around, he looks very gruff and grumpy, wearing hideous clothes, and I could swear his skin is GREEN! I quickly lie down and pretend not to have noticed. But the next thing I know I am being shaken violently.
******** Day 2 *********
Oh holy Jesus. I don't know if I am better or worse off. I have been "rescued" by somebody who is neither Daniel Cleaver, nor even hoity-toity Mark Darcy. He is not even human. He is an ogre and his pet, a donkey who just won't stop talking. I mean, I thought I was ugly, with my pyjamas and podge, and therefore no hope of attracting a boyfriend, but this chap weighs at least twice as much me, and could bite my head off. (I wish I was eaten by Alsatians!)
This ogre-like being, who says his name is Shrek (a contraction of Star Trek?) says he is taking me to meet my true love. I wonder who this could be? Are my mum and this Shrek in something together? They seem to be going out of their way to make me look a complete idiot, and frankly, they really needn't bother, I already feel like an idiot most of the time, with or without an ogre for a boyfriend.
When night fell I insisted on stopping, and shutting myself in a cave. I don't know what he thought: perhaps he thought I was under a spell that made me even uglier at night. But all I really wanted was to rest, because someone of my build can't walk very fast (I don't know how he manages!), and I also wanted a bit of peace to reflect on what had happened. Huh, men (human or otherwise). No sense of sensibility.
After I had retired to my cave, I was dozing off when I heard shouting outside. The ogre was ranting about how he wanted to be alone, then he talked dolefully about how people judge him before they know him, because of his appearance. I had some sympathy: people often say rude things about me because of my size. But I don't judge anyone by their appearance! Although I seriously think that the ogre should rethink the style of those ears of his.
The worst thing is, I think he fancies me. One evening he started chatting me up in a big way, and I found I was actually warming to him. We were talking about food. One of his favourite dishes is weedrat. I found this a bit disgusting at first, but then I thought of some blue soup I had made accidentally, accompanied by congealed green gunge. But I'm a human, and I can't go out with an ogre!
******* Day 3 **********
I felt better when I woke up this morning. I saw a blue tit on a tree branch, and for some reason unknown even to myself, I started singing to it. I don't know why I did this: perhaps I thought the bird might explode or something, or that it might turn into my true love, but instead it simply looked disgusted and flew away! But I'm so tone deaf I don't know what my singing sounds like. I thought of that time I'd tried to sing at the office Christmas party. I'm dying for a smoke.
Meanwhile, the ogre was snoring away, and the donkey was talking in his sleep, about what he likes his "baby" to do. I mean, I knew that men think of little else, but is it the same with all male animals? Why does a man refer to his girlfriend as his "baby"? Oh dear, I must try and find a nice SENSIBLE boyfriend. Preferably a human one, of course.
And guess what? Robin Hood of all people suddenly appeared, and tried to literally sweep me off my feet, by swinging on a rope and grabbing hold of me. However, I was heavier than he expected and it didn't quite work. I never thought Robin Hood really existed, and in the stories he gives the impression of being all moral and noble, stealing from the rich and giving to the poor etc, but he's just as bad as the rest of them. And I've heard chat-up lines worse than his, his words were oratorical fireworks. I'd even prefer a romantic evening with Shrek.
********* Day 4 ***********
Oh dear. A really bad start to the day: I spent most of the night talking to Donkey (or more precisely, being talked at by Donkey), who is rather more brutally honest than I would like. He commented nastily on my size "I mean, you know what it's like to be considered a freak, with all that flab, but you're not nearly as ugly as Shrek!", but added that Shrek and I had a lot in common. Me? In common? With an ogre?
Anyway, I thought that maybe Donkey had a point, so I tried to talk to Shrek, but he was extremely bad tempered, as if I had mortally offended him. Perhaps he had read my diary. Oh well, sod him. He's clearly the most dreadful cold fish.
And then, suddenly a certain Lord Fitzherbert appeared from nowhere. Is he meant to be my true love? He wants to marry me! I think Lord TitsPervert would be a better name: he's about a foot shorter than me (a miracle: very few men are shorter than me!), and he stares freely at my breasts, which is easy for him, because they are at his eye level. He has no idea who I am, or what I do. He keeps calling me Princess Fiona, and won't listen when I try to correct him.
When I told him that I work in a publishing house (or did before I was disowned), he said he didn't know what a publishing house is. I've got a feeling that books are banned in his "perfect" world (he seems to have a particular aversion to fairy tales), so he wouldn't know. I cannot live happily with someone who tries to run a perfect world: I mean, I was hoping to meet Mr Right, but I didn't know his first name was Always.
******* Day 6 ********
I WAS going to marry Lord Fitzherbert (his name's Lord Farquaad, sorry: I was misinformed). We were even standing on the altar, him looking dashing in his wedding clothes, me looking not so good in an ill-fitting bride's dress. We were about to kiss, when suddenly someone came rushing in shouting "I object!". For a moment I thought this was Shrek, wanting me back, but then I saw it was someone completely different. A redhead girl, a princess. The princess. Princess Fiona.
It turns out that due to some mix-up, possibly in the cutting room for two different movies, I had been substituted for Princess Fiona, who was the one Shrek was meant to rescue, and who Farquaad really wanted to marry. It's obvious why: she's much prettier than me (I'll kill her myself!). I didn't hang around to watch them get married, I escaped as quickly as I could. Let them be a smug married couple! But I just can't remember if it's one in four marriages that ends in divorce these days, or one in three.
But unfortunately, this means I am back where I started. Tragic spinster, no boyfriend. And I may die fat and alone, and half eaten by Alsatians! Perhaps I should write a diary, to tell the truth about Bridget Jones, the whole truth.
Oh, and I found out that the dragon was female. A good thing I found out in time, before starting a major relationship with it! That's odd, fairytale dragons aren't usually female. On the other hand, human dragons usually are female. I know one called Perpetua, who bosses me around at work.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
That's it! If you want to know what happens to her next, watch the movie of Bridget Jones's Diary!
By the way AimzNemesis AKA The Sadistic Scorpion, sorry for nicking one of your ideas, I thought it was too good to miss for Lord Fitzherbert. I enjoyed the Blooper Reel, keep up your good work!
******* Day 1 **********
It all began on New Year's Day, in my 32nd year of being single. Once again, I found myself on my own, and very much on my own this time. Every year my mum tries to fix me up with some bushy-haired middle-aged bore, and I had feared this year would be no exception.
However, this year, things had gone from bad to worse. My mother, a strange creature from the time when a gherkin was still the height of sophistication, had really excelled herself. She had once said gaily (her word, not mine!) "Having children is not all it's cracked up to be, darling. Given my chances again, I don't think I'd have any." And now she had disowned me, on the grounds that I wouldn't be likely to produce any grandchildren for her, and I found myself abandoned, and locked up in a castle.
At times like this, continuing with one's life seems impossible, and eating the entire contents of one's fridge would be inevitable, but there is no fridge here, not even one containing a single lump of mouldy cheese. So for the first time in my life, I am losing weight, and my cigarette total has been 0 for some time now, but this is a dreadful way of giving up. This is far worse than being eaten by Alsatians (especially as the castle is guarded by a terrible fire-breathing dragon).
Now I am lying on the bed, gazing into space, wondering if there is any point in going on. My major relationship could be with a dragon who is really supposed to guard me. Perhaps it would be simpler to end it all by jumping out of the window into the hot boiling lava that surrounds the castle, but something falls through the roof...
I look up and see that somebody has just crashed through the ceiling, and landed on a heap in the floor. He stands up; I see from behind that he is a tall, and possibly handsome knight in armour. Ding dong! Maybe mum had sent this person along to rescue me, and maybe she had got it right this time!
Maybe not. He turns around, he looks very gruff and grumpy, wearing hideous clothes, and I could swear his skin is GREEN! I quickly lie down and pretend not to have noticed. But the next thing I know I am being shaken violently.
******** Day 2 *********
Oh holy Jesus. I don't know if I am better or worse off. I have been "rescued" by somebody who is neither Daniel Cleaver, nor even hoity-toity Mark Darcy. He is not even human. He is an ogre and his pet, a donkey who just won't stop talking. I mean, I thought I was ugly, with my pyjamas and podge, and therefore no hope of attracting a boyfriend, but this chap weighs at least twice as much me, and could bite my head off. (I wish I was eaten by Alsatians!)
This ogre-like being, who says his name is Shrek (a contraction of Star Trek?) says he is taking me to meet my true love. I wonder who this could be? Are my mum and this Shrek in something together? They seem to be going out of their way to make me look a complete idiot, and frankly, they really needn't bother, I already feel like an idiot most of the time, with or without an ogre for a boyfriend.
When night fell I insisted on stopping, and shutting myself in a cave. I don't know what he thought: perhaps he thought I was under a spell that made me even uglier at night. But all I really wanted was to rest, because someone of my build can't walk very fast (I don't know how he manages!), and I also wanted a bit of peace to reflect on what had happened. Huh, men (human or otherwise). No sense of sensibility.
After I had retired to my cave, I was dozing off when I heard shouting outside. The ogre was ranting about how he wanted to be alone, then he talked dolefully about how people judge him before they know him, because of his appearance. I had some sympathy: people often say rude things about me because of my size. But I don't judge anyone by their appearance! Although I seriously think that the ogre should rethink the style of those ears of his.
The worst thing is, I think he fancies me. One evening he started chatting me up in a big way, and I found I was actually warming to him. We were talking about food. One of his favourite dishes is weedrat. I found this a bit disgusting at first, but then I thought of some blue soup I had made accidentally, accompanied by congealed green gunge. But I'm a human, and I can't go out with an ogre!
******* Day 3 **********
I felt better when I woke up this morning. I saw a blue tit on a tree branch, and for some reason unknown even to myself, I started singing to it. I don't know why I did this: perhaps I thought the bird might explode or something, or that it might turn into my true love, but instead it simply looked disgusted and flew away! But I'm so tone deaf I don't know what my singing sounds like. I thought of that time I'd tried to sing at the office Christmas party. I'm dying for a smoke.
Meanwhile, the ogre was snoring away, and the donkey was talking in his sleep, about what he likes his "baby" to do. I mean, I knew that men think of little else, but is it the same with all male animals? Why does a man refer to his girlfriend as his "baby"? Oh dear, I must try and find a nice SENSIBLE boyfriend. Preferably a human one, of course.
And guess what? Robin Hood of all people suddenly appeared, and tried to literally sweep me off my feet, by swinging on a rope and grabbing hold of me. However, I was heavier than he expected and it didn't quite work. I never thought Robin Hood really existed, and in the stories he gives the impression of being all moral and noble, stealing from the rich and giving to the poor etc, but he's just as bad as the rest of them. And I've heard chat-up lines worse than his, his words were oratorical fireworks. I'd even prefer a romantic evening with Shrek.
********* Day 4 ***********
Oh dear. A really bad start to the day: I spent most of the night talking to Donkey (or more precisely, being talked at by Donkey), who is rather more brutally honest than I would like. He commented nastily on my size "I mean, you know what it's like to be considered a freak, with all that flab, but you're not nearly as ugly as Shrek!", but added that Shrek and I had a lot in common. Me? In common? With an ogre?
Anyway, I thought that maybe Donkey had a point, so I tried to talk to Shrek, but he was extremely bad tempered, as if I had mortally offended him. Perhaps he had read my diary. Oh well, sod him. He's clearly the most dreadful cold fish.
And then, suddenly a certain Lord Fitzherbert appeared from nowhere. Is he meant to be my true love? He wants to marry me! I think Lord TitsPervert would be a better name: he's about a foot shorter than me (a miracle: very few men are shorter than me!), and he stares freely at my breasts, which is easy for him, because they are at his eye level. He has no idea who I am, or what I do. He keeps calling me Princess Fiona, and won't listen when I try to correct him.
When I told him that I work in a publishing house (or did before I was disowned), he said he didn't know what a publishing house is. I've got a feeling that books are banned in his "perfect" world (he seems to have a particular aversion to fairy tales), so he wouldn't know. I cannot live happily with someone who tries to run a perfect world: I mean, I was hoping to meet Mr Right, but I didn't know his first name was Always.
******* Day 6 ********
I WAS going to marry Lord Fitzherbert (his name's Lord Farquaad, sorry: I was misinformed). We were even standing on the altar, him looking dashing in his wedding clothes, me looking not so good in an ill-fitting bride's dress. We were about to kiss, when suddenly someone came rushing in shouting "I object!". For a moment I thought this was Shrek, wanting me back, but then I saw it was someone completely different. A redhead girl, a princess. The princess. Princess Fiona.
It turns out that due to some mix-up, possibly in the cutting room for two different movies, I had been substituted for Princess Fiona, who was the one Shrek was meant to rescue, and who Farquaad really wanted to marry. It's obvious why: she's much prettier than me (I'll kill her myself!). I didn't hang around to watch them get married, I escaped as quickly as I could. Let them be a smug married couple! But I just can't remember if it's one in four marriages that ends in divorce these days, or one in three.
But unfortunately, this means I am back where I started. Tragic spinster, no boyfriend. And I may die fat and alone, and half eaten by Alsatians! Perhaps I should write a diary, to tell the truth about Bridget Jones, the whole truth.
Oh, and I found out that the dragon was female. A good thing I found out in time, before starting a major relationship with it! That's odd, fairytale dragons aren't usually female. On the other hand, human dragons usually are female. I know one called Perpetua, who bosses me around at work.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
That's it! If you want to know what happens to her next, watch the movie of Bridget Jones's Diary!
By the way AimzNemesis AKA The Sadistic Scorpion, sorry for nicking one of your ideas, I thought it was too good to miss for Lord Fitzherbert. I enjoyed the Blooper Reel, keep up your good work!