So I’m thinking about the fact that I’m 28 and this slight fear of my life turning into a Bridget Jones movie sets in my tummy. Being the analytical woman I am, I start turning over how I can avoid writing a sad diary of my weight and cigarettes smoked (or in my case, shoes bought). The thought enters my mind that I can’t be the only one and didn't the author of “Eat, Pray, Love” have to go all the way to Indonesia to find a man? Hmmmm, what if we imported (legally) men from other countries? Men have mail-order brides…why not a mail-order GROOM! Get some great-looking men itching to get into the states who don’t speak English from places like Italy and Puerto Rico. And teach them phrases like “Yes,” and “Whatever you’d like,” and “Of course your butt is small in all of your clothes,” and “No, she wasn’t prettier than you”. No fear single women, help is on its way! I’m writing the business plan in my head right now. I just may be a millionaire yet...Though, I admit, I’m still a Bridget Jones’ movie. I’ll wait for Darcy.
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