Quotes from Kristan Higgins

Real love would be when no matter how happy you were at any given moment, it would be better with the person you love. Like having that person there would make it perfect

True peace was rare when you were fat. When you were fat, you wore armor to protect and deflect. You were either sharp and bitter, inspiring fear in potential bullies, or you were extra cheerful to show nothing mattered at all, not the snubs or the insults or the degradation. When you were fat, you worked so hard to be invisible. You lived in fear of being noticed, singled out, of having someone point out what you already knew.

When you're surrounded by peers at their peak of beauty, it's impossible to forget your own imperfections. My weight was like a Dementor, always close, always stealing happiness, something I always tried and failed to escape.

I'm eighty-two, can you believe it?" She's actually ageless, given that her purple face is stretched tighter than an eggplant. "So what did you have done?" I ask, unable to help myself. "The whole package," she says. "Got my eyelids done, some Botox, a little filler, chin implant, cheekbones, got my lips done, neck lift, breast implants, tummy tuck, ass lift.

An ass lift? At eighty-two? I plan on proudly letting my ass drag when I'm eighty-two. I sure as hell wouldn't—

Book club meets every other month or so. Besides marriage counseling and the very occasional night out with my sister, I'm home twenty-nine nights out of thirty, and still the girls resent me. Not once have they ever complained about Adam's late meetings—which may or may not have been booty calls for amazing porno sex. Me, I go out to my stupid book club, and I'm punished for it.

Yes. So Rachel can enjoy that for years to come, because what woman doesn't fret over this? After all, don't we all walk around with mirrors in our panties, making sure our labia looks plump enough? I try to fix my face, but I'm fairly sure my disgust shows.

She was gifted at charm. I never valued that in her before, but I felt like kissing her hand now. I should write to Eric and thank him for being a self-centered idiot.

We parked in one of those underground garages that charges a kidney and both retinas for two hours,

New York City is a good place to come to forget your misery. So many people, so many ages and races and stories. Virtually everyone had had, was currently nursing or would have a broken heart. There were a thousand stories worse than mine.

In most marriages, lust and love become tempered by normalcy.

I'm Jenny Tate. Robert Tate's daughter. Great. I'd sound like an idiot. My name is Inigo Montoya, and you slept with my father.

Funny thing about prom; no one ever had as much fun as they were supposed to.

No more bereavement food. I was sick of it. It's funny how time is measured after you've lost someone. Everything relates back to that second your life swerved. The calendar isn't measured by the names of the months or seasons anymore, but by those significant dates. The day we met. The first time we kissed. The first dinner with his family. The anniversary of his death. The date of his funeral.

Well… I dreamed I was alone. I wasn't sure if you were away, or if we were divorced, but it was just me and the girls, and as the dream went on, I realized that you weren't coming back. At first I thought you left me. Then I realized it was because you… died." He waits for my reaction. "I have those dreams about you all the time," I tell him. "Daydreams, I call them.

I was hit by a car, and according to the Hallmark Channel, I'm supposed to come home.

Well, don't make duck. I'm morally opposed to duck. Do you know what they do to ducks at a duck farm? The cruelty! It's barbaric. But I do love veal. Can you make veal? Or is that too hard for you?

Elle complimented me on my weight loss and asked me which diet I was on. Acid stomach, I wanted to say. You should try it. I can introduce your husband to Emmanuelle if you want.

Maybe love isn't just a bouquest of roses once in a while. Maybe it's just sticking it out, when it's hard, when you're mad, when you're tired.

That moment when you've had the worst day ever, and you come home, and you can't go one more step without a long, hard hug from your spouse. Only they have the arms that will do. Only they really understand.

Not everyone was strong. Not everyone rose to the occasion. Not everyone could carry the burdens of life. And weakness was a burden unto itself

What some people don't understand about new clothes is it's not about the clothes. It's the promise of how happy you'll be when you wear them, the wonderful things you'll be doing in them, how people will look at you and say, yes, there's a woman who really likes herself.

schizophrenic, alternating as it served her purposes between

The third boat was quite pretty, too...this one was an Adirondack fishing boat, and even though it was only half finished, I could picture Jay Gatsby in it, casting a line over the side while he yearned for that shallow tramp, Daisy.