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DEAR HELEN FIELDING,

Where for art thou new BRIDGET for the 40-something’s?

No longer will the choice of vodka and Chaka Kahn get us through. It’s no longer cute to be single or dating or in a relationship, but not married. Ice cream and a pack of cigarettes will not suffice as solace.

Bridget never had to deal with MATCH.COM or hearing the door of 40 click behind her. Miss Single-in-her-30s Bridget never had to decide if she should open an account at the SPERM BANK or if she should freeze her rapidly waning eggs before menopause set in. She never had to choose between adoption, or interviewing friends as possible co-parents. While these options are wonderful, they are not easy.

Helen, how wonderful it would be to have a leader who can find humor at 2am when our pre-menopausal hot flashes wake us to thoughts of, What would it be like to  have someone love and care enough about us, including our jiggly bits, to actually say WILL YOU MARRY ME?

At that hideously early hour it’s really VERY hard to find the humor in between the sweating and rapid heart beats. If we had a new heroine, we could be reminded at 2am of how we are not alone in our thoughts and sweats and how ridiculous it really is because OF COURSE someone will love us (and vice versa) enough to ask us to marry them. Silly us.

It would do a lot of women a lot of good to have this new role model. These seemingly serious afflictions of the single 40-somethings need a giant injection of humor. We need someone to humorize baby-making turkey basters  and to joke-ify the nagging suspicion that there is a sign pasted on ones forehead that says, YES THERE IS SOMETHING WRONG WITH ME, WHICH IS WHY I DON’T HAVE A HUSBAND.

We need this new icon to show us that it’s not the extra 10 lbs around the middle or the silver hairs that are showing up EVERYWHERE that are keeping us from matrimony . We need her to remind us that we’re perfect  JUST AS WE ARE.

We need a soldier of humor to lead us with a genuine smile through the baby and bridal showers that shine a harsh light on our deepest, unfulfilled desires while having to guess how big the pregnant woman’s belly is or helping to plan a wedding reception seating chart.

Don’t get me wrong; I’m not asking you to bring back Bridget. She is happily written into the sunset with MARK DARCY and she should stay there. She needs to stay there as a sign of hope and inspiration.

Dear Helen, we need a new heroine, someone to put the FUNNY back in FORTY and before the Freaking Fifties hit. And we’re looking to you.

Come for dinner. I make a mean martini and I’ve made my own version of blue soup on more than one occasion, but we can always order pizza.

Sincerely,

Miss MoL

*READERS: Whenever I’m looking in the fridge for something to eat I recite: Where the f**k is the f**king tuna? This is Bridget Jones for Sit Up Britain. Is it just me, or do you recite Bridget lines as well?

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