I'm sure you're all curious about the swimsuit competition. No, I didn't win. No, I didn't win the trip to Vegas. No, I didn't place. But I looked DAMN hot and realized that a month of crazy healthy eating and hitting the gym before 7:00 a.m. has done my body well. And by doing my body well I really mean doing my body really effing well. I am a hottie and summer isn't even here yet! I call that being proactive my friend.
Anyhooters, the contest itself was actually really fun. This surprised me. One would think that prancing around in a bikini in front of a standing room only restaurant would be anything but fun. I was apparently mistaken. Silly me. Yes, I can honestly say that I enjoyed my time on stage. I enjoyed the cheers and yelling and gawking. I like hearing, "Dear, God, look at those long legs." This even surprised me. I expected to feel embarrassed during my time on stage; somewhat ashamed I would display myself that way. As I alluded to before, a swimsuit contest really isn't me. I'm not the girly-girl Hooters Girl that likes to be on display. I'm the Hooters Girl that is down to earth and talks sports with her tables while actually knowing what she is talking about. I'm the tomboy Hooters Girl. But apparently I'm the swimsuit pageant Hooters Girl too. Who knew?
So what is a Hooters swimsuit contest like? Well they're all a little different. But every Hooters is different, so this is to be expected. Our competition went a little something like this. First we all paraded around in our bikinis in a procession of half-naked awesomeness. Wings were prevalent, beer was flowing and bodies glistened with baby oil. It was a beautiful thing. After all thirteen of us marched out together we switched to "clubwear." Basically, clubwear means finding the sexiest little dress you can. The shorter and cleavagier (it's not a word, I know) the better. You get the idea. This time we came out individually to strut and pose and answer a question. Out of that big list of twenty questions they effing asked us one. I thought this was a little lame considering you can't discern much from one damn question and quite frankly some of the questions sucked. Luckily, the swimsuit contest gods were kind to me and presented me with a question I liked. It went a little something like this:
MC: "So, Sauce, who is your favorite professional athlete?
Sauce: "Well currently I'd have to go with Usain Bolt. I'm a track girl and he gives all us tall sprinters hope. But - and don't hate here - all time favorite I'd definitely have to go with my boy John Elway."
A thunderous roar erupts from the crowd. It seems the Broncos fans were out in force. Sweet!
MC: "Ok, so how about your favorite nonprofessional athlete?"
Sauce: (Eff I am unprepared for this little twist) "I'd have to go with myself. Obviously."
More applause and laughter emits from the crowd. Humor is a plus with crowd. Noted.
MC: "So what about the curlers? No love for them?"
Sauce: "Excuse me, curlers are professional athletes in my eyes."
Nailed it. The crowd loved me. And somehow I had taken a single question and effortlessly made it into a conversation. I am just that good. The other girls were impressed. And glad they didn't get the sports question.
After we all had our clubwear interview we changed back to our bikinis and did our individual bikini judging. Basically this consisted of a sexy walk, some smiling a little wave maybe, a wink if you were really saucy, a pose, a turn, a pose, some more walking, more posing, a little final flirting and exit. Of course all of this was also completed in insanely tall shoes and a bikini on a slippery stage, even slipperier floor, and the most slippery of all, two frightening stairs. Final count resulted in only two major falls and about nine minor slips. I'd have to say this was pretty good all things considered.
Finally, we all came out for one last group walk before returning for judging. This is quite possibly the worst part. You have to stand there and smile and wait and keep smiling when they don't say your name. Yes, we're all friends and I'm happy for the winner and those that placed, but it's still no easy thing to do. You stand there and look pretty and smile and then your name isn't called. It's marginally disappointing. Even to a girl that didn't want to win.
So the winner was announced, we were all happy, relieved and excited to indulge in copious amounts of fried food and alcohol. Please note that if you value your life you will NEVER get in front of a girl who has spent the last two days basically starving herself after living for weeks on protein shakes, Boca Burgers and vegetables after she has completed a bikini contest. You will get trampled to death as her heeled feet sprint to the nearest bar/fried food haven. Luckily, we were in a Hooters. Fried food and alcohol was rained upon us. A cheat day never felt so effing good.
That concludes my swimsuit contest experience. I loved it. Now, I am serving as Miss Hooters Missoula's manager. Well sorta. Since I'm the one with the degree and business knowledge and the marketing foresight that can only be gained through five years of college courses and one award winning student advertising campaign, I have graciously decided to help her get sponsors and get her name out and generally be awesome. Last year our winner spent $2,000 out of pocket to attend the Hooters International Bikini Pageant. This year, I'm going to prevent that. I've already gotten her a weekly radio gig. Less than 24 hours after the contest. I am that good.
Note: Yes, that headless chick is me. And yes, the picture does make my boobs look small. Thanks for noticing.