23-year-old Catherine is cute:
He hired me because I’m cute. I don’t have a problem admitting I’m cute. I hate people who say ‘Oh, I’m ugly’, or ‘I’m so fat’, when they’re clearly not. I’m slim and athletic. I have blonde hair, blue eyes, and I’m cute as a button, damnit. Ask the seven boyfriends I was with for less than six weeks; they’ll agree. Don’t ask the three I stayed with longer (never more than three months); they’ll tell you I’m a vacuous narcissist.
She hates old people:
I didn’t want to see old people unless someone was paying me for it. I didn’t like them. They jumped the line to get on buses, they drove slowly, walked slowly, packed groceries slowly, paid for groceries slowly, infected us with their miserable faces, had trouble paying gas bills, told boring stories, smelt of wee, took up space. I was ageist, so shoot my firm optimistic face.
And she’s just gotten herself a job at the local care home.
Her mother worries that she has no real plans for her life, has a lot of debt, and makes a lot of bad choices.
The rest of this review can be found here!