I've been watching this freak show since the days of Bibi and 5am gym visits adorned in plaid work trousers and nothing, nothing, prepared me for the noises that accompanied the ingestion of 5 corn dogs (each of which contained 28% of her recommended sodium for the day). Approach with caution.
I thought the previous evening's excursion in the FatMobile to McDonalds looking like some blazed up Humpty Dumpty due to the sartorial choice of a ham coloured hat over a t-shirt hijab was noteworthy, especially after she pulled up for round two, the poor staff had only just got over their disbelief before the deranged menace careered up to the window demanding further sustenance.
However, despite the shocking revelations that the marriage proposal borne after 24 hours was not in fact sincere, the much anticipated melt down and chow down has left me feeling somewhat unsatisfied yet philosophical. She manages to repulse, yet not entertain. She is realising what we have known all along: she is a middle aged woman who wasted her youth, failed in education, squandered her money, ruined her body and is obese to immobility, lonely, and broke.
The similarities to Life By Jen cannot be denied, It would take an almighty effort of will to change course, and I don't think she has the strength to take out the bins, let alone a task of such enormity. Sat in an accessible flat, home cooking junk food, an Amazon wishlist your sole hobby, with only a cat and You Tube for company. The ending is written, there is no plot twist, no redemption. The corn dog episode reminded me too completely of Jen and those god awful choc-ices, jamming them in one after the other, weeping in her nightie. Watching Chantal realise this fate is a one trick pony. The end is nigh.