Upon reading this trilogy, I came to conclude that I am:
Extremely neurotic
Extremely dramatic
Extremely angsty
The series was very Nancy Drew slash CSI. The plot was actually very simple, one of those murder-she-wrote thingies where the central character gets muddled with some murder mysteries which she ended up solving, albeit being face to face with the murderer herself and almost being murdered.
Okay, what hit me was not the story itself but the farkin tone of the story. Heather Wells was so messed up, her life from being so hot nose diving to being so not. Her career as singing sensation went down the toilet when she finally refused to sing those vapid bubble pop teenybopping love songs, thus resulting with getting the kick from her record company. Then she walked in on her long time fiancé, her partner for ten years or something, getting head from another singer in their bedroom. Her mother, panicking that dear daughter won’t be making any more moolah without her singing career, stole her life savings and ran away with her manager hence leaving her to put up with a low paying job as a college dorm manager’s assistant just so she could pursue her education. Then her ex fiancé was engaged to the head-giving-singer after they’ve only been broken up for four months or so which he later married and impregnated shortly afterwards.
In the books, Heather Wells was fat, 28, bankrupt, dumped and was attempted to be killed several times. And yet, the whole tone of the story was so… light. Even when she was cut and bleeding all over. Even when she was dealing with her ex and a supposedly broken heart.
Are there really people who are like that?? People who can face one major fiasco after another and still not want to drown themselves in the bath tub?
It made resent myself from becoming so disgustingly emo when thrown into crisis.
Heather Wells Series:
Size 12 Is Not Fat
Size 14 Is Not Fat Either
Big Boned