"Ouch!"

"Did widdums hurt his widdle diddums?"

"Keep that crap up and widdums will puke all over your diddums."

"I show wifely concern for my big, strong husband and what do I get? Threats!"

"It's not a threat, it's a promise. I'm in pain, woman."

"I don't see any blood."

"That's because the blood is under my arm, or rather in my arm pit."

"And how, pray tell, did you accomplish that?"

"By becoming the proud possessor of a strangulated skin tag."

"Funny. I've been having thoughts of strangulation myself, just this very minute."

"I'd settle for pity. The damn thing hurts when I move my arm."

"So stop moving your arm. Problem solved."

"It would be difficult to strangle someone without moving my arm."

"If I was strangled I wouldn't be able to put a band-aid over your poor, abused skin tag to protect it from your manly arms."

"I suppose a practical solution is almost as good as pity."

"Hold still, I'll get a band-aid."

Some time later.

"Ouch!"

"Haven't we been through this before?"

"We certainly have. I think I've sweated off that band-aid."

"You forgot your anti-persperant this morning?"

"You try rolling anti-persperant over and inflamed skin tag! Ouch!"

"Looks like driving isn't the best occupation for one with your particular malady."

"I'm pulling over, you can drive."

"My pleasure."

"You want to open the driver's door so I don't have to move my arm?"

"Why, I'd be happy to."

"Ouch!"

"I guess that didn't help much."

"I never realized just how many times I move my arm in a day."

"If a band-aid didn't work, perhaps an Ace bandage?"

"Isn't a few yards of elastic a bit of overkill to cover up a little skin tag?"

"It does seem a bit excessive, now that you mention it."

"Hmmm…"

"When I'm not driving I can see things I normally couldn't, like the sneaky look on your face."

"Sneaky? Triumphant would be a better expression."

"I have the feeling I'm not going to like this."

"It should stop you from crying 'Ouch!' every few minutes."

"That sounds good so far. What's the catch?"

"Actually it involves about three catches."

"This is sounding complicated."

"Not complicated at all. Every woman past puberty has been able to master the task."

"You do realize I'm not a woman?"

"I've noticed. You have some very nice ways of showing me you are delightfully male."

"My pleasure."

"Mine, too, now that you mention it."

"You're stalling."

"Think of the surprise when all is revealed."

"That's what I'm afraid of."

"Chicken. We're here - get out of the car."

"At the mall?"

"The perfect place, full of nice, anonymous big box stores where we can relieve your pain quite easily."

"And why would anonymity be required?"

"Because you have seldom ventured into the precincts of femininity, which is where your relief lies."

"You are out of your tiny, little mind! Ouch!"

"Say that again in a few minutes, after your poor strangulated skin tag has been properly dressed."

"Did you acquire an MD when I wasn't looking? And how are we going to find a medical dressing in the mall?"

"My dear, I have been dressing for years, I'm an expert."

"OK, I guess I'll just have to trust you."

 

"Excuse me? Is anyone else in the dressing rooms right now?"

"I think they're empty."

"Good, I need to help my husband with a little problem and I wouldn't want to embarrass anyone."

"I'll stand guard," offered the saleswoman.

"Thanks. Darling, go in and find a stall and I'll join you in a moment."

"You sure this isn't going to result in a police raid or something?"

"Wouldn't that be fun? We'd have to call one of the kids to bail us out!"

"You're weird! Ouch!"

"Go forth and be patient."

 

"No!"

"Take off your shirt."

"No!"

"Coward. Think of it as a dressing."

"Dressing? Crossdressing, maybe. I'm not sure I'm that liberal."

"It's a bra, I wear one every day. It will nicely cover that nasty skin tag and prevent you from going ouch."

"I take bras off, I don't put them on."

"Tell you what - If you're a good boy I'll be glad to take off both our bras tonight and see what happens."

"It would be simpler if I never put it on."

"If I hear you say 'Ouch!' one more time I may give you something to ouch about."

"You sound like my mother. Ouch!"

"Arms out. Now!"

"OK, OK."

"I got you a front closing bra so you won't have to try to do up catches on the back. Aren't I the thoughtful wife?"

"I still think people will see the thing under my shirt."

"It's almost the same color as your skin and only a AA cup, which you seem to fill nicely. You might think about dieting."

"Thirty seconds wearing a bra and you're already criticizing my body image."

"My apologies. Let me tighten the straps."

"It itches."

"Wimp. How's the skin tag. Move your arm around a bit.

"Hey! It works!"

"Repeat after me: my wife's a genius."

"My wife's a perverse genius."

"No ad-libbing."

"Yes, dear. How did you know my size?"

"And who has been doing you laundry for several years, reading the slowly increasing garment tags on your shirts?"

"Oh."

"Once again: my wife's a genius."

"I get the message."

"Put your shirt on and let's pay for your new clothes."

Some time later.

"Whoa! What brought that on?"

"Does a husband need an excuse to kiss his wife."

"When you do it like that you may need a permit."

"Permit me, then."

"Whew!"

"Just my way of thanking you for your help with my medical problems."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't that nasty skin tag dry up and fall off a while ago?"

"It surely did."

"Then why, pray tell, are you still wearing your bra?"

"Uh - because I like it?"

"Even if it itches?"

"That stopped the first day. It just feels right now."

"No one's screamed and pointed to your bra as you walked down the street?"

"You were right, no one's noticed a thing."

"Except you."

"Except me. You bothered by that?"

"Not at all. Maybe we should get you something a little sexier if you want to keep wearing a bra?"

"Matching underwear?"

"Why not. After all, your wife's a genius."