Blah. What is up with these 20-something books? The I-don't-like-my-job, I-can't-find-a-mate, I'm-almost-30 angst books? They are all written in the EXACT same voice, and even hit the same highlights (in both this book and Girls are Weird, a father's funeral results in a hook up with an ex--I guess I really dodged a bullet there).

In the interview after the book, the author seems very proud of herself that she wrote an anti-fairy tale, meaning the protagonist does not end the book skinny (this is a book about a woman obsessed with the fact she's fat). Umm...okay. But the protagonist does (1) sell her screenplay, (2) become close friends with a movie star, and (3) have a handsome doctor fall in love with her (his specialty is bariatrics but he likes fat chicks! plot twist!). How is that not a fantasy?

This is a quick read that is sometimes amusing, but there's really no there, there. The blurb on the front cover from the New York Times really says it all: "This season's beach-book Queen for a Day." As in read and quickly forgotten. How is that a selling point for a book?