An idiotic, implausible novel about three women who use the prospect of sex with a prostitute to get their husbands to lose weight.
Three suburban wives, Brin, Cheryl and Dierdre, have had it up to here with their tubby hubbies, each weighing over three bills. Their ever-ravenous, couch-surfing spouses, Martin, Doug and Randy, refuse to lose weight, so whatever could motivate them? Why, sex with a hot hooker, of course! Brin invents a college friend who’s become a “pro,” and the women tell their guys that they can each have a guilt-free roll in the hay with her once they’ve reached a goal weight of 210 pounds (is 210 svelte nowadays?). Confident they’ve set the bar too high, the wives relax and enjoy their husbands’ initial success. Meanwhile, the boys huff and puff, deny themselves cheez curls and obsess over their prize: Who’s going to get to her first? Are they allowed to make side bets, like whoever loses ten pounds before the others gets the only blowjob? It’s all quite imbecilic and misogynistic yet nonprovocative—like Neil LaBute, de-fanged. Needless to say, the men continue to drop flab at a brisk pace, with the prostitute a constant thought, dangling in front of their minds’ eye like the proverbial carrot—or, in this case, Twinkie. As the scales dip toward 210, Brin, Cheryl and Dierdre start to panic: Should they come clean? Nah—too complicated. Instead, they interview several candidates, hire a lovely intelligent call girl named Cinnamon and book a less-than-seedy hotel room. (Wow—what cool chicks!) In the end, we have several hundred pounds lost as well as one divorce, one marriage holding steady and one couple moving on to explore threesomes with hookers. The moral? Um . . .
A harebrained tale not even a desperate housewife could love.