"There’s a problem with Christmas," Charlie blurted out on Wednesday after dinner.

He looked troubled. His face was pink and he hid his eyes from Susanne’s with his forearm as if she was Medusa.

"What’s the problem with Christmas?" Susanne asked.

He shook his head.

"Charlie. Tell me. What’s the problem?"

"I can’t say it," he mumbled, his sleeve stuffed in his mouth like a gag.

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The other day, I took Olivia shopping for clothes. She'd received some money for Christmas and was eager to spend it, as 13 year-old girls are wont to do.

We schlepped down to the mall and started looking and I was appalled. Not by skimpy or slutty clothing, but by the sizes. I don't know who they are making these clothes for, but some of the size smalls would have fit my three year-old.

Olivia isn't skinny. She's built like me - busty and hippy. It's a pain in the butt to shop when you're built like that. But she only weighs 130 lbs - she's not overweight. She's normal. She's curvy. She looks like a young woman, not like a scare crow.

As I helped her pick out clothes and watched her try stuff on, I could see the discouragement and pain on her face. Nothing fit. Even larges were too snug. She was almost in tears by the end of the day. I felt so bad for her because I know exactly what she's going thru.
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