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So Izzy got knocked up. Not by one of the art school bad boys, but by white-bread Harris, her neighbor. Her churchgoing pillar of a dad reminded Izzy that she “can do anything she puts her mind to,” the moral heft of this single option given momentum by her father’s imminent death from cancer.
But Izzy’s losing her groove, what with twin toddlers and a clueless husband. What to do? Maybe a red dress and F*#@-me shoes offer a solution…