Unfamiliar with what “female survival” is exactly? Well basically, it’s the process of how a woman can uniquely get herself out of a particular situation. Sometimes it might be a situation that is a bit more universal, like being late or getting lost, but quite often it is a situation that only a woman would find herself in.

Sometimes it is the combination of the event and the solution that makes it even more notable, and it’s the ingenuity of these women and their cleverness that should be celebrated… and it is also what makes most men think we’re crazy.

In the true spirit of survival, this month's story comes from mobile massage therapist (as fate would have it) Victoria. Her unique twist on surviving an encounter with the law should bring a smile to your lips.

I'm an independent licensed massage therapist in Los Angeles, and my work takes me all around the city, from the beach to the mountains, from Malibu to Manchester. It was a gorgeous, warm and typically sunny day in Southern California, and I was driving to my next client in Beverly Hills. I had just finished working with one client, and only had about ten minutes to travel to the next one,15 minutes away. As I was driving along through the heart of the Beverly Hills, I felt the uncomfortable sensation of my bra digging into the center of my back. I assumed that one of the clasps was probably bent the wrong way, and as you can imagine, it was making me crazy!

In my urgency to get to my next client on time, I decided to do the task of removing it while I was driving. Take your bra off …while driving??!…some men might ask, but every woman I know has an inherent ability to pull a sort of Houdini move with well known undergarment. It is the ability to remove one’s bra without removing one’s shirt and most can do it with just one hand. Maybe the move should be called the “Bra-dini.”

Granted the “Bra-dini is a bit trickier when driving, but what really had me worried was the thought of putting another one on. I usually keep a couple of changes of clothing with me because of wanting to feel fresh as theday wears on; However, it was becoming quite clear, that because of the struggle of maneuvering the vehicle while conducting the “Bra-dini, that the replacement should wait until I arrived. Just then…

I looked in the rear view mirror, and lo and behold, you guessed it, the whirling blues of the Beverly Hills police were behind me.

"Maybe he isn't pulling me over,” I thought. So, I continued, which I think irritated him a bit, because he drove his cruiser closer to my car and over his loud speak said “pull to the right, keep your hands on the wheel and stay in the vehicle!” There was a lump in my throat, not to mention the lump in my shirt from my undergarment that was now half off. But without delay, I pulled to the side and remained frozen, with my hands on the wheel. That’s when the cringe moment started.

A cringe moment is the kind of moment that no matter when you think of it, you sort of get a chill, which is more or less to help shake the lingering embarrassment you felt at the time. And believe me, embarrassing was an understatement!

I didn't want to move an inch even though I hadn't quite finished the job of removing the bra! There it was in plain view and as the cop walked over all I wanted to do was push it back into my shirt.

The officer asked me why I was driving so erratically and as he asked the words his eyes glanced down at the ball of Victoria’s secret, not so secret any more, sticking out of the v-neck of my shirt.

Needless to say, I had to explain my dilemma to him (oh sure I thought of trying lie, but really what could I say)... As I explained, I was thinking this was it, I was in trouble…big time, I was sure he would charge me with whatever he could. Even though I didn’t think I was driving so erratically, I was going slowly, with perhaps an occasional slight weave, but this was Beverly Hills and ANYTHING out of place there is suspicious.

But oddly enough, either it was my lucky day, the embarrassment was mutual, or the officer was amply satisfied with the humorous story he now had to tell, because he simply smirked, shook his head and said "next time you should pull over" then walked away without giving me a ticket. I guess honesty can be the best policy.

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© Melt Magazine 2004