Aren't you Heather Wells?

What do you call a chick lit with a hint of murder mystery? Make that a whole lot of murder mystery.Whatever it's called, the Heather Wells series written by Meg Cabot is definitely it. Funny and sassy with a bit of murder thrown in there what's not to love? Meg Cabot writes books that you can't help but love, and the Heather Wells mystery is another you can't not but read.

The first title: Size 12 is Not Fat. Speaks out to many women who, due to the increase in the portrayal of size 0 women in the media, feel fat and overweight due to their clothes size. The series begins with a humourous scene in a dressing room, trying on jeans. Now, for a woman, we are typically secluded to numbers that mean nothing to no one, this means that it is extremely to difficult to find well fitting jeans. (For me they are always too long - I'm short okay?). Heather - a previous teen pop sensation, now working New York College residence hall Fisher Hall - is outraged at the vanity sizing being used by the shop - which is revealed when Wells over hears a size two, who can't fit into size 0 because of the vanity sizing. The humourous way in which this is presented reflects the whole series, you feel as if Heather is almost a friend, an allie in this world obsessed with a woman's appearance. Not only does this book reinforce the idea that people are not determined by their weight, but also that yes there are always, probably, going to be people who put you down (Comically shown by the constant "You would look like Heather Wells if you were a bit skinnier") but, most importantly, this should not bother you, and you should be proud of how you look, even if you do want to diet but keep failing - it's okay.

Now back to the series and that hint of murder mystery I mentioned. To keep this book from just being a chick flick (is there a book word for that? There must be). The residence hall Wells is the assistant director of, has a nickname - Death Dorm. Why? Because of the murders that occur there. For example, in the first title, a girl is found at the bottom of the elevator shaft - dead. A protagonist wouldn't be a true protagonist without realizing something no one else did. In the first novel - it is obvious that girls don't elevator surf! (Which is named the cause of death) This means that Wells get's herself into a spot of bother in pretty much every book. Much to the delight of NYPD Detective Canavan, who constantly finds Heather is all spots of bother - no matter how many times he warns her!

Speaking over people warning Heather to keep away from murderers, I bring you to Cooper Cartwright. AKA the other half of my OTP (One True Pairing, if you didn't know what that meant what are you doing on the internet I mean come on). The brother of Jordan Cartwright, Heather's ex. Throughout the first two novels Heather's crush for Cooper is very apparent This also means that the audience develops a certain crush on him too.

Oh c'mon you can have a crush on a fictional character okay do not judge me.

Heather also comes along with a lot of personal 'baggage', did you catch the fact she has a crush on her ex's brother, but not only that she also lives with him? That's not all, Heather met Jordan in her teen pop star years (Hence the whole "aren't you Heather Wells? thing"), if you have been paying attention to this, you'll have realised Wells is no longer a pop sensation, why? Her Mother ran off with her manager - and all her cash. Her father also starts the series in jail for not paying taxes. Yeah.

Now if you're in for a book that's entertaining and makes you cry with laughter at some points then you get fine with this series.

Heather Wells Series by Meg Cabot can be found on amazon 

Titles in order

• Size 12 is Not Fat
• Size 14 is Not Fat Either 
• Big Boned
• Size Twelve and Ready to Rock
• The Bride Wore Size Twelve 

Did I also mention that each of the books are as good as the first?

This took way too long to write and I apologise.

Bye bye

Why flu is the worst thing ever, like ever.

Prepare yourselves for a post moaning about the illness that took me down like a bullet at the weekend.

That said illness? Flu. Or a really bad cold that came with a headache, a sore throat, a cough and tiredness.

So there I was, last week, in the middle of writing a cracking post about the Heather Wells series by Meg Cabot (to come soon) and it was Monday night so I thought, y'know I might leave this until the weekend to finish I'll have time then.

Ha, I was so wrong

I believe it started that Monday afternoon, when I placed myself next to a girl who was coughing every 30 seconds. It then turned out she had pneumonia. Oh. Apparently, according to Google, there are forms of bacteria that are contagious - not sure how far I'll trust this information but within 3 days I had a sniffle and I knew something bad was coming.

I think it was going to sixth form on Friday that did it. I pretty much spent that day feeling like death and begging for the day to end when I could go home and curl up in bed. Of course that was the day I was a given an essay and two lessons worth of biology notes as homework. Oh and I had given myself personal homework to finish my blog post over the weekend. If gods and such are real, one of them definitely had it in for me.

So there I am, Friday evening wrapped in my quilt watching Miranda, pretty sure that with a good nights sleep I will be feeling 100% (Maybe 95%) for Saturday. I didn't take into account the fact I had a blocked nose, this meant I spent half the night figuring out how to breathe. I do not take illness well.

I actually don't remember Saturday that much. I think I attempted to do my biology homework and I watched the Speak Now World Tour - according to my tweets anyway. But one thing I do remember from Saturday - getting angry at being ill, getting dressed in proper clothes at 5pm and stating that I would not let this illness take me down. The Sunday came and I felt 100x worse. My plan had failed. Until I had drunk about 5 hot lemons and then Sunday evening I felt as good as new, as if I hadn't felt like death in the hours previous. I ate some toast and I enjoyed it - it tasted like toast not some sort of bland crunchy food I'm being forced to eat. But by then it was about 8pm, and then I remembered the biology notes in for Monday.

So I did them, I rushed them, because I actually like biology and I don't want to ruin my track record of handing every notes in on time. But the stupid thing is? My teacher never asked for them Monday. I could have spent Sunday evening contemplating how the flu left as quick as it arrived. Or watched Doctor Who I mean my options were limitless.

Not really sure that there is a point to this post. Only that I'm still alive and I haven't abandoned this blog.

Byeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

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