I am an old lady. Well not literally, I’m 24, but by Hooters standards I have definitely crested that hill everyone keeps talking about. I was thinking about it recently, there is a Hooters lifespan and I am definitely not at the beginning. I suppose it’s sort of like dog years – you know 7 dog years for each human year – but with hot chicks and not much clothing. Thinking about this the other day I came up with a Hooters timeline of sorts that depicts the lifecycle of a Hooters Girl. Before reading on please note this is simply based on averages, simple math, and speculation. Obviously you’re gonna get those 30+ year-old Hooters Girls, but they’re like the 115 year-old people in the world – few, far between, and similar in mythic awesomeness to a unicorn.
Back to what I was saying before my tangent on unicorns, life at Hooters begins at 18. Since you are required to be 18 to wear the coveted shorts, this is like your infancy. At 18, you are but a child and still naive to the ways of creepy regulars in gym shorts. Worry not though oh young one; the Hooters lifecycle (and the abundance of creeps) will ensure you grow up quite quickly.
My arbitrary decision-making led me to decide that 27 marks Hooters death (on average). At 27 you might as well just hang up the shorts because odds are you should have gotten a real job about 3 years ago (or you can be extra cool like me and have a 9 to 5 job and work at Hooters). At 27, your Hooters time is effectively over, unless you’re the super Hooters 30+ miracle.
So where does that put me? Well if infancy is 18 and death is 27 and the lifespan of the average American woman is 79.1 years – blah, blah, math, blah – then a Hooters year is 8.789 years. Ouch. So at 24 years and 3 months I am nearly 55 years old. Dear. Lord. Told you I was an old lady.
Now that I am thoroughly depressed I think I’ll go drink some Ensure laced with FiberOne. Mmmm, tastes like retirement.