Free Wish Upon a Star by Goldsmith Olivia

was right. She was a little thinner than usual—not much—so while the size twelve tops fit, size fourteen slacks and skirts were a little looser than usual. But not loose enough. She sighed. Perhaps her problem wasn’t that her butt was too big, but that her tits were too small. She wondered if there was a scientific ratio to determine that. She thought of Katherine Rensselaer and her perfect body in her perfectly cut clothes. Claire’s best jacket came from Ann Taylor. Katherine Rensselaer had probably never been in there, just as Claire had never been in Prada. She would definitely have to shop, not that she had the money for that. She looked at the pile of clothes on the bed, shrugged and then smiled. She might have fat thighs and second-rate clothes, but it was she, not Katherine Rensselaer, who was going to London with Mr. Wonderful.
    Claire spent Saturday morning trying on almost every decent garment she owned. By lunchtime she was exhausted. She had decided on a pair of black slacks from a pantsuit (but not the jacket), a beige sweater set from BCBG, a black and tan tweed A-line skirt and not much else. There was also the possibility of a navy dress she’d worn to a wedding, but it was floor length, which wouldn’t work.
    ‘Where you been all morning?’ her mother asked when Claire, rumpled and tired, walked down the stairs and into the kitchen. ‘You’ve been so quiet. More knitting?’
    ‘No. I finished the sweater.’ And she had. It had come out beautifully and Claire would definitely take it with her. The thought made her smile.
    ‘So what were you up to?’
    ‘Just doing some spring cleaning,’ Claire told her mother. ‘Do you have any navy thread? I have to fix a hem.’
    ‘Look in the bottom drawer. I think so.’
    Claire rummaged in the kitchen drawer full of old ice cream scoops and dull knives. She found thread, all of it in a tangle, and pinking shears that might or might not cut. Meanwhile, her mother got a can of beer and a diet Pepsi from the fridge and wandered out. Claire was hungry, but she wanted the skirt and pants to fit. So she made herself a tuna salad, poured an iced tea (without sugar) and took them back upstairs.
    She ate lunch then tried on the navy dress. It was a sleeveless boat neck, a simple full-length sheath. If she cut it short, above knee-length, it might look nice. But before she began cutting she took out a pad, sat at her desk and began a list. Despite the piles of things she’d tried she really had no other clothes up to the mark. She’d need a nice black T-shirt and a good blouse—white or beige silk—along with a pair of shoes; maybe strappy heels. She had comfortable shoes for walking, but—she almost blushed—she’d definitely need some nicer underwear and a good nightgown.
    Claire didn’t really enjoy shopping. Perhaps if she was a size ten she might, but she always found it dispiriting to hopefully pick out a size twelve, have trouble getting her thighs into it, go back for a fourteen and just barely fit. And then her taste was so different from everyone she knew. Claire didn’t read women’s fashion magazines and she was too modest to realize that she possessed style, though it was a simple, classic one. She just thought, as Tina so often told her, that ‘she dressed boring’. That reminded her that Tina would be over in an hour. She would prefer not to do the shopping with Tina, but that was absolutely impossible.
    When Tina arrived, she was apparently over her sulking and was now acting as if the whole plan was her idea. ‘Victoria’s Secret, here we come!’ she yelled as they stepped out of the door.
    ‘I’m not sure I want to go there,’ Claire said.
    ‘But you said you need panties and a bra. And a sexy nightgown. I saw a red lace robe and nightie that…’
    ‘I want to go up to Saks.’
    ‘Saks Fifth Avenue? You’re crazy! It’s so expensive.’ The wind whipped the two of them as they stood out on the street.
    ‘But I have a