Image by juliebee via FlickrI know.... Some things just shouldn't be said out loud. But it is true. I was a Hooter's Girl. I didn't make the calendar, I wasn't a particularly good waitress, I am not enhanced- ahem. And, yes, I can still hula-hoop and pour beer without spilling a drop.
It was my second job and did make me feel a bit like I had a secret identity. My mother was appalled. She should have been. I should have been. But, alas, the pressures of youth and living in an apartment away from home forced my hand to give it a shot. I did fairly well there. Made an average of $200/night. I was not, however, a "good earner" as Hooter's Girls go.
I did ask for a larger shirt. Denied.
I asked for bigger shorts. Denied.
I quit when I was ridiculed by the manager for wearing more clothes on the Halloween dress up shift. Ah, the return of self esteem!
It is a rare fact that Hubby uses to raise eyebrows when I am being particularly difficult to deal with. Snaps me right back into line and causes him to grin evilly. (Hubby has his darker side too...)