There comes a point in this book when the main character (the original shopaholic, now mother of the title "mini") has an inner monologue that goes like this "She's looking like me like I'm crazy. And maybe I am. But I have to keep doing this. I have to." But, you know what crazy lady? You don't. The crazy has ceased to be cute, or funny, or even the slightest bit relatable. In the first book, ok, who hasn't tried to hide their entire wardrobe by shoving it in vacuum bags and shoving it in a closet, only to have it explode everywhere? Uh, no, just me? Anyway - maybe it's the post-recession me, but Becky Bloomwood needs to get her act together. Maybe if there were consequences to her nutbar behavior beyond eye-rolls, she would, but in her reality everyone loves her anyway. Must be nice! Ugh. I'm shopaholic-ed out.
1.5 overdue credit card bills out of 5.
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