What you say about Meg Cabot's book reminded me how I was practically screaming during the only book by Marian Keyes I've ever struggled through. Oh, it's oh so Oirish, and witty (not) and self deprecating and she goes on and on about how fat and ugly she is compared with glamorous friends and you *know it's not true*! These chicklit books with their heroines always anguishing over their looks make me sick.