I'm a mature and professional adult.

Yesterday at work I met with a coworker and as we were having a very important talk, I could feel the underwire in my bra very slowly start to work its way out of my bra and up through the v-neck of my shirt. 

I tried to nonchalantly look down, only to see that the wire was poking out of my blouse, much like a gopher from a hole. 

I had a moment of panic. Do I excuse myself abruptly? Or do I pretend nothing is happening? 

But if I pretended nothing was happening, what if the wire continued to slide upward until the wire was so far above my lady shelf that it tucked into my nostril?

This could happen. The nature of my conversation involved looking at paperwork and talking about job expectations. The frequent raising and lowering of my face to study the paper put my nostril in the neighborhood of my décolletage. 

And how do I concentrate on talking about very serious stuff when the entire time, I can think of nothing more than one small, but very determined wire. 

I could suddenly say, "Hey, look over there! What's that?" and point out the window. Then they would turn their head to look and I could very quickly tug the wire out and hide it under the table. 

But then if they turn back too quickly, or I can't tug fast enough, they could turn to see me with my hand down my shirt, pulling as if I were a knight drawing his sword. 

The conversation seemed endless. I stared into my coworkers eyes and saw their mouth move. But the gears in my head slowly cranked to a halt as I wondered how my boobs could betray me in such a manner. 

And how could Hanes do me so wrong? 

The meeting ended. I must have spoken English. I surely was coherent and covered all the important topics. She didn't look at me in confusion or ask if I were having a stroke, and did she need to call 911?

We said our goodbyes. 

And then I ran to the bathroom where I locked myself in a stall and jammed my hand down my shirt, with no more grace than a fumbling teenage boy, and pulled the wire out and held it aloft. 

Victory.