*Spoiler alert* Just in case you still want to read it!
Jesus Christ, what the hell was this lady smoking when she wrote this toilet paper excuse of a book? I loved the idea initially. Had it not been for the book club I signed myself up for I would’ve never made a dent here. The fact that it was so predictable, pathetically, and aesthetically Hollywood pleasing was just plain insulting.
The cover: It caught my interest. Stupid, vain human.
What’s it about: Poor Jemima, our protagonist is like my foreign cousin in England. She’s the outcast at some office job. The funny girl that nobody paid attention to who does all the work but takes none of the credit. This was nice and relatable. Suddenly after so much self-loathing, she changes her lifestyle. Jemima becomes super fit and everything and I MEAN EVERYTHING is perfect. Like her job, love life, social life, POOF become amazing. Just because she lost weight? -Shut up…
Read it if: You enjoy slamming shit across the room. I should respect a writer’s thoughts, because I am one. But this book made me (and I did, a few times actually) want to throw it across the room and hit a skinny bitch (it did not hit a skinny bitch, it hit my bedroom wall).
Is it funny: Sure, if you think this deserves to be called a book. As for the ending, she turns it into a Mother Theresa monologue. She tells the reader what you want to hear. What ALL WOMEN would LOVE to hear. One page? ONE PAGE DAMNIT!?
Do I recommend it: This book was like watching The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills. Predictable, mind numbing, and obnoxiously stigmatizing. NEXT!
-Silvia Campos (annoyed AF)