My Wife Gets Some Work Done

My wife insisted on getting some work done. I tried to talk her out of it, but to no avail.

“What if you lose that special┬ácombination of features that I find so appealing?” I asked her.

“I’m doing this for me, not for you, buddy. You never look at me anymore anyway.”

She used a clinic in Omaha, which her sister swore by, having had a lot of work done there herself. My wife was away for a month, visiting all her family members in the area while she was there.

Before she left for Nebraska, I warned her that if she went through with it, I was going to have some work done too.

“Go ahead,” she said. “It can’t make your face any worse.”

I came home from work the day she got back and found her in the kitchen. She faced me with a smile.

“What do you think?” she said.

“Not bad,” I said.

I unbuckled my pants and dropped them.

“What do you think?” I said.

She let out an ungodly shriek and took a step back.

“Get that thing away from me!”