I Feel Bad About My Neck

I understand that I am probably not the intended audience for I Feel Bad About My Neck. But I grew up watching Sleepless in Seattle on a regular basis and was excited to read something by the screenwriter. I was supremely disappointed.
This was the most pretentious nonfiction book I've ever read. Honestly. Am I really supposed to be sympathetic that a rich white woman feels like she just HAS TO get a manicure weekly? Or that she spends enough money on getting her hair colored every year to buy a CAR? What a terribly sad life she has. I don't think she could have done more name dropping if she tried and the humblebragging was out of this world.
I made myself suffer through the entire second half even though it made me want to puke. But if I'm being honest, I didn't finish the last 4 pages, it was already way past redemption.

I could go on for hours about the shameless privilege but I'll leave it at this: you will gain nothing from reading this book.