Is It Time to Let Go of Bridget?

Bridget Jones: the chaotic, calorie-counting, chain-smoking, and relentlessly self-improving single woman who charmed her way into our hearts back in the early 2000s. She became the poster child for every woman who felt a little out of place in her own skin, a little too imperfect to fit into the “perfect” mold of the time. If there was ever an everywoman in film, it was Bridget. She was messy, real, and most importantly—she made us feel less alone in our own messes. But now, with Bridget Jones: Mad About the Boy (2025), the question looms large: is it time to let go of Bridget?

I was all in for the original Bridget. She represented that quintessential, vulnerable, slightly tragic single woman who couldn’t seem to get it right. And let’s be real, most of us could relate, at least in some way. There was something undeniably comforting about watching her struggle with her weight, her love life, her job, and her endless self-doubt. Her awkwardness was a mirror reflecting the insecurities that we often hide deep inside. Bridget was us, and we were her.

But here’s the thing: as Bridget Jones moves into her 50s, still single and still fumbling through life, I’m starting to wonder if her story—her brand of messy, relatable singlehood—is no longer something we should be clinging to. Mad About the Boy brings Bridget back for a sort of Pride and Prejudice 2.0 for the older generation, but do we really need to keep this party going? Hasn't the time passed for Bridget’s chaotic energy?

Let’s talk about the cultural baggage. Back in the early 2000s, we ate up every ounce of Bridget’s self-deprecation because it felt genuine and, well, funny. She was a walking punchline, and we loved her for it. But as time has gone on, something has changed in the way we view this kind of character. We’ve evolved into a world that’s more aware of the consequences of body-shaming, self-loathing, and all the toxic “perfection” rhetoric that was par for the course in the 90s and early 2000s. Bridget was the queen of body-hating humor, and it was mostly fun and lighthearted... until it wasn’t. When does it stop being a harmless joke and start feeding into a culture that makes women feel like they’ll never measure up?

I don’t think Bridget was ever intended to be part of that culture, but looking back, it’s hard not to see how her character, with all her weight-obsessions and constant self-criticism, could easily be a part of a much darker, larger conversation about how society has been hard-wired to make women feel inferior.

The thing is, I think we’ve grown past Bridget. Or at least, we should have by now. She was the icon of a generation that was figuring out what it meant to be a woman in a very specific context: the late 90s and early 2000s, where Bridget Jones’s Diary felt revolutionary. But in 2025, can we still see Bridget as that “everywoman”? Can we still embrace a character who measures her self-worth by her weight, her single status, and her constant quest for improvement, only to finally find happiness through marriage and a man? The last time I checked, Bridget was a story that felt more like a mirror of outdated ideals than a blueprint for modern women.

It’s not that I don’t want Bridget to have her moment. It’s just that I’m wondering if that moment has already passed, and keeping her alive—literally—in her 50s is more of a nostalgic exercise than a necessary cultural touchpoint. Bridget, as an idea, still has value; she was the messy, imperfect woman who broke all the neat little boxes society put women in. But that’s the thing: we’ve come a long way since then. Can we still relate to her in the same way, or is it time to retire her character and find new, more evolved figures who speak to where we are now as a society?

Bridget Jones might have represented every woman once, but now she might just represent an outdated narrative. We’ve grown beyond the idea that our worth comes from getting married, losing weight, and fitting into socially constructed roles. And I’m not saying Bridget Jones: Mad About the Boy isn’t fun—hell, it could be a great way to revisit old memories and see where these characters have ended up. But is it worth resurrecting the franchise just to keep clinging to an image of womanhood that doesn’t feel as relevant anymore?

Maybe it’s time to say goodbye to Bridget. Let her rest as the messy, relatable icon she was—frozen in time as a relic of a specific cultural moment. Let’s remember her fondly but move forward. Because at the end of the day, isn’t it time for us to stop obsessing over perfection and start looking for the next generation of women who can show us what it really means to be ourselves, without all the baggage Bridget carried around?