Where's my girdle?

As you all are aware I work with an overwhelmingly majority of men. Yes, men, as much as I would like to say boys, I will respect them and call them men. Nee, I say superhero's just ask them. Well as I think back on my tenure with the Police Department and these fine, responsible, crime solving men my mind shoots back to a time of laughter, frustration, embarrassment and retaliation. Let me just begin my story and spare yall the verbs or whatever those describing words are... Several years ago I was assigned to the a unit we called "the CRU" crime resolution unit to be exact. This unit consisted of myself, two other detectives, school resource officer and Sgt. and Lt. A. he was the leader of the pack. We all worked very well together, we became friends, not only at work but in our everyday lives as well. I shared a small office with the two detectives who were to become two of my closest friends. As time went on, we shared jokes, some appropriate, most not, we talked of our home lives, and let me tell you with that boy of mine I had some home stories. The guys would laugh at me, they would tease me, they would say things that only men could appreciate. They mostly loved to tease me. My two grown, responsible, crime fighting, gun toting friends loved to tease me. I would see that smirk on one of their faces and know they were up to something. They huddled together like 1st graders on the school ground deciding on their next "funny". Usually, at my expense. I loved those guys. I have never laughed so hard in my life. One particular day, had started out somewhat differently. I had been summoned to County Court. Well hell, guess I have to dress up, no men's dockers and a polo for this event. I wiggled into a dress, and high heels and trotted off to court. What in the world was I thinking as I struggle to stay atop those high dollar high heels, my feet were squealing like piglets caught in the barn door. My ability to remember that a dress requires one to sit properly as opposed to flopping down, was painfully obvious as I noticed the baliff eyeball me as my dress crawled up my legs like a spider. That poor old man nearly fainted at just the thought of a gleapsy at my yams. Oh and the getting up, lets just say the 8 month pregnant woman had more grace, I resembled bambie on the ice. I manage to limit my humiliation to a few mishaps and take myself back to the office, where my co-workers wait. I walk in wearing the one dress I own, trying to have some sort of ego. My two office mates had never seen me in a dress. Well good god, the smirks, the giggles and the opinions began to fly. I just sat there, letting the girl's I mean superhero's have their moment. I decide, my pigglet feet can no longer survive in those harness's called shoes. I waltz myself to the bathroom to change into my usual look like one of the guy's outfit. Ahhh, I feel better and safer, t.v. is wrong, female cops can not run in the fashionable kicks made today. I smile and casually put my dress, my panty hose, my shoes and my girdle, under my desk. Now, ladies we all know that girdles are used to hold up our panty hose, not to hide the baby fat that we acquired 15yrs ago. Surely my stuff will be safe under here, I erroneously thought. I leave the room, only to find upon my return that my two friends have hung a donated pumpkin pinata on the ceiling of the office. I think to myself they certainly seem to be well behaved. They sit as if choir boys waiting for the next song. I stop and survey the room, last time they acted respectable they had scotched taped my earpiece on my phone receiver in a way that I could not hear anyone talking to me. I looked really stupid standing with the phone in my hand continually saying "hello" to some poor soul who thought I was an idiot, oh that was a funny all right! Anyway, the room looks safe, my phone works, but wait.... ummm...my stuff is moved from under my desk. Oh they did not.. those wienee's, surely not. I scurry to my desk. They sit silently watching me, they know the gig is up. The moment they have planned and waited for. I look like a poor woman at a Walmart 1.00 sale. I search through my pile of clothes. I will kill them..., in my uncontrolled, can't believe it, I am about to be so embarrassed voice, I turn as if possessed and with lips tight, and eyes squinted like Carol Burnett's Eunice talking to Momma, I say "Where's my girdle?" I see my one friend begin to shake with laughter, my other friend has his head thrown back and is wiping away his tears. They had held it in as long as two boys could. I tell them, this is not funny! Where is it, give it to me,now. Dear God, the thought of the other women knowing I wore a girdle and then the size, have these gooses lost their minds. I tell them I do not think this is funny and to give me the %$#@ girdle. How could they, they were stilling falling down laughing, the madder I got the funnier it was. As I looked around the room in horror, I demanded to know where my girdle was. One of the jokesters pointed outside, he managed to say it was on the antenna of one of the patrol cars. Ahh, shit, was all I could think. I was still recovering from knee replacement, so my stomping out of the room skill had not been reestablished. I limped outside looking frantically for a cream colored, size medium rubberband. Not there!!!! I turn and limp back inside only to find the boys sitting again quietly. I once again demand they return my secret weapon, and tell them I am furious, this is not funny, hahaa. The other jokester points to the ceiling. I look up only to see that orange, ugly, pumpkin pinata. What! My girdle is in the pinata, the pinata I can't reach. The tears are flowing again, as they laugh uncontrollably. I looked like a 5 yoa. cripple jumping for the candy. I try to find a stick, that would serve two purposes, one hit the pinata, two beat the guys. As I begin to tell the two that if they don't give me my rubberband, I am going to dump the shredded paper on the floor and while they pick the paper up, I'll get the pumpkin. Just as I am holding the trashcan full of shredded paper, and dumping on J.D.'s head and desk, the (previous administration)director of Public Service walks past. I am busted. He stops at the doorway, see's me with the can in mid air, J.D. acting innocent and K.D. laughing, he asks what we could possibly be doing. We stop, we look innocent, and J.D. announces that we are practicing for cinco de mayo, the paper was to be the candy. We are admonished for the horse play, I finally (almost in tears, from embarrassment)get my grubby fingers on that stupid pumpkin, I tuck it under my arm, I glare at the boys and limp my self out of the building, across that parking lot, with that pumpkin that swallowed my girdle! Man those were good times. later chicks and chicketts.