I decided around page 200 that I didn't want to finish Such a Pretty Fat
. I paged through the last half of the book, reading a bit here and there, and confirmed I was okay with my decision before putting it back in the library bag.
The thing is, I disagree with a lot of the negative reviews -- I love sarcasm, I love bitchiness, I love swearing (I FUCKING LOVE SWEARING), but there's still something about Lancaster's writing that doesn't sit well with me. If I'm reading a memoir, it's important that it feels authentic, and almost all of the conversations I read in Pretty Fat
felt canned, like they were scripted for a sitcom with a laugh track. I realize part of a memoir is putting your most interesting self forward, but there are only so many WE ARE SO CLEVER, OH MY GAWD back-and-forths a reader can take (if that reader is me).
Slow-ass pacing, smugness, nastiness for the wrong reasons, and the fact that the magical elixir was a combo of sensible eating and hiring a personal trainer -- so much for the everywoman appeal -- cemented Pretty Fat
's place on the "unfinished" shelf.