There is something profoundly obnoxious about a couple of really skinny women making a show of struggling into new jeans after eating pizza. I’m sitting there thinking, “Listen, gals, why don’t you try closing a new pair of jeans over MY hips and MY gut,” while they don’t even show the slightest of muffin tops. I get that if a super-skinny woman suddenly becomes slightly-less-skinny, she will need to buy new clothes just like an average-size woman who becomes slightly larger, but would it really have been so difficult to make Julia Roberts and Tuva Novotny look like they’ve actually gained a little Neopolitan pizza pudge?
(However, on a different note: the movie does not take pains to make Italy look like a lovely, romantic place. It looks dirty, dilapidated, unconstructed and chaotic, and Liz Gilbert loves it anyway. I appreciate that honesty. Additionally, I fucking DARE any horny Roman jackass to run up and grab my generous American caboose. Hope you enjoy my sensibly shod foot up your balls, cupcake!)