The Bar Mitzvah boy in this story is now going on 30 years of age. I am relating this tale because every time I think about the incident I burst out laughing. I can't help it, even after 17 years have passed.

My beautiful wife Lorraine set off on her mission to locate a dress for our son Gregg's Bar Mitzvah celebration. This is a formidable task and Lorraine set forth bravely, with no preconceived idea, to find this extraordinary garment.

The docile husband's duty in these matters is two-fold: (1) to approve the choice, and (2) to pay the clothier. That's all!

Lorraine undertook her search with diligence and vigor. No dress store in Flushing, Rego Park or Nassau County was bypassed. Some choices came close but there was no final sale. Time was passing and the date of confirmation was not flexible. It was firm. Tension was beginning to creep insidiously into the picture.

On a Saturday morning, while treating patients in my office, I received the long-awaited good news message from Lorraine, "Honey, I have found it."

"Wonderful," was my retort.

I was to meet her at the store after I completed my treatments to place my stamp of approval and make final payment arrangements.

When I arrived at the boutique I was ushered to a couch. I was informed that Lorraine was trying on the ensemble and that she would be out for viewing in a little while. I meekly planted myself on the couch and opened the New York Times. All my life I have never been comfortable in a ladies dress shop. They frighten me terribly and I tried to lose myself in my newspaper.

"This is it! Do you like it?" Lorraine asked. After a while I lowered my newspaper and standing above and in front of me were my wife and a gleefully grinning saleslady.

I was stunned.

I stood up from my crouched position on the couch and stated in no uncertain terms that, "That is the worst looking dress I have ever seen." Pandemonium was unleashed in the shop, I couldn't believe I had spoken so honestly.

The gleefully grinning saleslady was now gasping for oxygen. "Call the Boss," she whimpered as she moved backward from me. The atmosphere was charged with electricity as "the Boss" entered the situation.

My only statement to "the Boss" was this: "You have taken a beautiful woman with a gorgeous shape and turned her into a football player." I was the villain and the search for the dress was back to square one.

The Boss snapped into action. He was a true fashion expert and in an hour he designed a beautiful evening dress - a waist taken from this dress, a sleeve from here, a neckline from there, and a touch of sartorial inspiration. It suited Lorraine perfectly.

Lorraine was a knockout at the celebration. Her dress was gorgeous (She always is!) I can still see the smile disappearing from the face of the salesperson as a passive, mild, shy husband spoke his true feelings.

It still gives me a chuckle.