I have seen countless novelty catalogs, tourist trap gift shops, gag-gift kiosks, and Internet websites sell T-shirts, caps, and coffee mugs that openly mock, belittle, cheapen, and demean me and my profession. I am a public servant who puts his life on the line everyday, and instead of being shown the same respect, kindness, and reverence given freely to policeman, firemen, and members of the military, I am humiliated and forced to constantly defend my job, to explain that it is, in fact, a real thing and a legitimate profession.
My name is Paul Derry, and I am a fully licensed, government-certified Female Body Inspector.
Simply put, my job is to inspect female bodies, making sure things are up to code so as to avoid any future female-body related mishaps or emergencies. As this is a matter of national security and involves the inspection of female bodies, it’s not appropriate for me to discuss the finer points of female body inspection, but I will say that my job takes me to dangerous terrain, including strip clubs, lingerie fashion shows, Lingerie Football league games, wet T-shirt parlors, amateur and professional performances of Hair, plastic surgery clinics, locker rooms, rap video shoots, cheerleader camps, sorority houses, and Lake Havasu, Arizona. Mainly, I’m looking out for ass-related shenanigans and boob-based discrepancies. I check to see if thangs are being properly backed up, with records kept for a minimum of three years. I look for dirty bombs hidden on drunk college girls, and sniff out plastic explosives in the faux-school girl pigtails of exotic dancers. Generally, and thankfully, situations are under control and I am able to move on, although sometimes in the line of duty I have to refer improperly maintained female bodies to a one of nine regional IBTCs, or Itty-Bitty-Titty Committees.
These are the duties I think of each morning, along with the many selfless, martyred Female Body Inspectors who served before me, as I silently, solemnly dress in the official uniform of the Female Body Inspector: a black T-shirt that says “F.B.I.: Female Body Inspector” on it, and a black mesh baseball cap that says “F.B.I.: Female Body Inspector” on it, and baggy red Ohio State University basketball shorts, because they are comfortable and I can run in them. Unfortunately, these items are virtually indistinguishable from the cheap, insulting knockoffs sold to disrespectful frat boys and dangerously overweight men around the country. (It is, in fact, the exact same shirt and hat, and usually the shorts as well.)
When you buy an unsanctioned “F.B.I.: Female Body Inspector” T-shirt or cap to give you or your friends a good chuckle, or to assert your heterosexuality, you make yourself look ridiculous. You also hurt the community, insult the government, and provide aid and comfort to the enemy. What if terrorists were to strike America with a female body-related emergency? All eyes would look to you, the guy in the “F.B.I.: Female Body Inspector” T-shirt. Except you would be able to do nothing, because you are merely impersonating a Female Body Inspector.
This notion even limits my ability to do my prescribed duties as well as diminishes the potentially life-saving public outreach I do. I go to lady charity-supporting parades and picnics and fun-runs each and every weekend where I offer free mammograms in my van. Despite the fact that my van has the words “Free Breast Exams from the Female Body Inspector” written on it, I have never had one taker. I could be saving lives; instead, I’m usually asked or forced by law enforcement to leave the fun-run immediately. It’s sad and it’s frustrating.
For me, “Female Body Inspector” is not an elaborate humorous conflagration of joke and wordplay. It is my job. My career. I am paid $34,000 a year, plus health benefits (including vision, obviously) and a modest 401k-matching program. I am part of Local 44 — The United Brotherhood of Key Grips, Sandwich Artists, Taffy Pullers, Guys Who Dress Up Like Silver Robots, Female Body Inspectors, and Dogwalkers. So pardon me, bouncers, assistant managers, and jealous boyfriends, but I am an officer of the law. It says so on my shirt.
Female Body Inspector
The Humor Section features a piece of original humor writing each week. To submit to it, send an email to Becca O’Neal.