DNF about a quarter of the way through. Literally half the internal conversations in this book were the female characters thinking/worrying about their weight. It was both boring and insulting. There wasn't enough of interest going on in the rest of the story to buoy me through the boring sections of the super-skinny chick worrying that she was no longer going to be a size zero, or the kind-of-chubby chick thinking about how she had no friends growing up because she was fat. (Really? None? Not a single person? That seems more like you may have a personality fault, not that you're fat.) And now that she's lost fifty pounds, she knows she can keep going because even though her breasts and booty are incredibly attractive to the hero of this tale, she knows that he would actually prefer little skinny women.
Just ugh. First off, weight is not the only aspect of physical appearance that someone may or may not find attractive. I think everyone is attracted to people of any weight who are also friendly, clean, and happy. Secondly, am I some kind of anomaly? Even when I'm dieting, I really only think about my weight for about three minutes out of the day - when I'm stepping on the scale and when I'm writing down my weight, and sometime around 3pm when I'm tempted to eat a candy bar. I just have a lot of other, more important, things to spend my brain power on.
In short, I felt like this book was unhealthy. The obsession of the main characters over their weight was grating on my nerves in a way that I couldn't ignore. Sorry, chick lit writers, women in the real world have other things to think about.