It tickles

Ladies. Perhaps you can relate.

Today I was sitting in a meeting, ready to turn on Sharp, Insightful, and Articulate Stefanie. As people talked around me, I felt a tickle on my chest. The slightest fidget produced ticklishness, such that I slowed and steadied my breathing so as not to move at all. Once I was able to escape to the restroom, I peeked down the front of my shirt. Sure enough, as I suspected, one of my hairs was nestled cozily inside my bra cup, winking sheepishly up at me. Needless to say, I picked the bugger out and threw it away, and when I returned to my meeting, I was quite short-skirt-looooong-jacket.

I feel like this happens all the time to me. An innocuous hair will slip down and find its way into my shirt, where it lays dormant and biding. At an innoportune time, it'll suddently reach up and give the boobie a little tickle. Cheeky bastard hair.