Gold Bond to the Rescue

"I really have to have that itsy, bitsy, teeny, weeny, yellow, pokka dot, bikini!" I tell myself. I yank it off it's hanger and run to the dressing rooms. I disrobe and throw the 2 piece on, admiring the new, healthy, lean, muscular me in the mirror. And then, suddenly, without warning, this aweful, horrendous, intoxicating, stench comes wafting into my dressing room. "OH NO -- I think to myself and look down -- it's me, it's my feet!" I've waited all winter to go barefoot in my Naughty Monkees and now I'm paying for it not remembering foot powder! I hurry up to get my feet covered again. Suddenly, 2 women in dressing rooms several doors away scream out "This dressing room stinks!". OH GOD NO! It's my feet again, these otherwise harmless little things are driving customers right out the door! As if matters couldn't get any worse, I forget later in the day that I have a physical with my doctor. She wants me to undress from head to toe to weigh me, measure me, check me over, that sort of stuff. Naked and truly embarressed, I decide not to put her through it and instead wear the naughty monkees under the patience gown the whole time -- can you imagine how stupid I looked! No more leaving my house without a pair of socks on in the morning. I've learned my lesson well and will save the bareness for the beach!