I watched A League of Their Own last night and cried five times. I know it was five times because I noted each time I felt tears welling up, right before punching myself in the head for being such a fairy. In other news, I called up to my mother's house to borrow an alarm clock yesterday evening and something stupid she said made me laugh for two minutes solid. I laughed so hard that I had to lay on the floor to balast my shaking shoulders and my sister ran upstairs to find out what in God's name was so funny. I told her, chokingly, and she looked at me in annoyance and disgust: that isn't even funny, Lucy.
Alls I'm saying is that maybe my usually hypercritical filtering system is off it's game. Maybe A League of Their Own is not the superb paean to feminism, female solidarty, self-belief and personal redemption I took it for.