Tell me the truth: You're in the hospital. You have a rash under your boobs. This is not some life-threatening disease--the rash is there because your boobs are humongous, you're rather on the hefty side, and yes, you sweat. We've all been there, right? Well, maybe not me, haha. But you get the picture.
OK, so you're in the hospital and the doc orders this anti-rash powder to be sprinkled under bosoms twice a day. How many of you would seriously expect a nurse to walk in there twice a day, pick up your knockers, and shake some powder? Wouldn't you, um, prefer to do this little task yourself?
Helpless Boob Lady has noooo problem at all pressing the call bell, yakking on the phone, or lifting a loaded fork to her mouth, and yet her hands mysteriously become crippled whenever I haul out the powder. Apparently it's "my" job to slap those guppahs up and shake on the Lamosil. When I assured her this is something she can easily do herself, she looked at me like I'm nuts: What, me? Powder my own boobs? Surely this is what YOU'RE getting paid the big bucks to do!
Uh, no. Here's the powder. Boob Duty has officially ended.