It's A Hoot
Posted by: tony on 09/11/2007 10:50 PM
Updated by: tony on 09/11/2007 11:12 PM
|
Expires: 10/12/2007 12:00 AM
|
 Dawn Eden reports on a young Hooters™ waitress who almost got kicked off of a Southwest Airlines plane for, well... being dressed like a hooker Hooters™ waitress.
I'm not saying that Hooters™ waitresses are hookers, but part of the attraction of going to Hooters™ (I would imagine) is to get a chance to look at scantily clad women.
If I was dressed like a fireman, someone could come to the conclusion that I fight fires. If I were dressed like a policeman, someone could come to the conclusion that I apprehend criminals. If I was dressed like a Hooters™ waitress, someone could come to the conclusion that I work at Hooters™ (or I make my living on my back).
Dawn comments on a quote the young woman made:
"I was humiliated, I was embarrassed," Ebbert said on "The Today Show." "I felt like everyone was staring."
That embarrassment is a gift, TBCLLHHWAGKOP1. Instead of suing the airline, you should be paying it out of gratitude for showing you the truth of what you are doing every day — treating yourself as a walking commodity, and others as consumers.
To the young lady, I ask: "How is that different than a normal day at work?" But I think I already know the answer to that. Those who frequent Hooters™, probably look on her with approval. The people on the plane probably looked on her with disapproval.
In that little microcosm of life called Hooters™, displaying one's "chestal area" (with thanks to Dana Carvey's "Church Lady") for the adoration of strangers is a virtue. In the real world, it's a vice. A woman's "chestal area" should be displayed only to the man who has promised to love, honor and cherish her all the days of his life. Not displayed (well, almost completely displayed) to random strange men looking to get their jollies, and for her to get increased tips.
I have noticed as I have been getting better custody of my eyes, that I would rather look at a woman in a pretty, though modest dress than one in provocative attire.
Dawn continues with:
TBCLLHHWAGKOP was no doubt weaned on the V-Monologues brand of feminism — the brand that takes inspiration from diatribes like "My Short Skirt," which participating coeds around the world shout in staccato blasts each year on "V-Day":
My short skirt.
It is not an invitation
a provocation
an indication
that I want it
or give it
or that I hook.
When I hear that, I think, sure, lady. And your cruciferous foliage, axillary buds, and shallow root system are not an indication that you are a Brussels sprout. Look, all I know is that if I don't want to invite muggers, I don't walk around flashing the contents of my wallet. I cover it up. Everybody knows I have one — it's not something I have to advertise. Likewise, if I don't want people to treat me like an object, I cover up.
Thanks, Dawn. I'll never be able to look at a Brussels sprout the same again. :)
But I definitely agree with the sentiment. And to those guys out there... When you go to Hooters™, and you're appreciatively ogling the waitress there, remember that she's someone's daughter. She also may be someone's sister or someone's mother.
--
|
