Secret Pants

Those Hooters Girls' smiles actually mean, "check out that effin'
mess we have to clean up later."  CREDIT.

I’ve always had a soft spot for kids.  In fact, when I originally started college I was pretty sure I wanted to be a geography teacher.  While that may have changed, my adoration for little ones hasn’t.  Except for when they’re coloring all over the seats of my booths of course.

One of the things that I’ve come to appreciate about children is their total lack of censorship.  I love that kids will think a thought and then just let that thought come stumbling out of their mouths with reckless abandon.  Frankly that shit is amusing.

Take, for example, a gentleman of probably no more than five sitting with the rest of his family for dinner.  Handing out crayons and coloring sheets as I introduced myself, the boy stared at me intently rather than ripping excitedly into the crayon box like his siblings.  As I moved from introductions to drink orders, the boy finally broke his silence.

“So what are we gonna have for dri…”

“You’re not wearing any pants.”

He said it loud and without hesitation.  His mother instantly turned red as his dad shot him an I-can’t-believe-that-came-out-of-your-mouth look.  Meanwhile I was quickly formulating a response.  That’s the thing with kids; you have to be able fire back just as swiftly as they do.

“Well actually I’m just wearing really short pants.  See I think my dryer might be broken because when I put them in they were really much longer.  But I had to wear something!”

And while he seemed totally satisfied with this response I continued, “So to make up for it I did this instead.  Check it out!”

With that I reached down, pulled on my nylons and stretched them a little from my leg.

“See?  I decided to wear secret pants today!”

His eyes lit up like I had just told him that he’d won a free year of candy.  And a pony.  A pony made of candy.

So next time you’re at Hooters, don’t think of those horrible tan things as Nylons.  Think of them as secret pants.  They’re WAY more fun that way.

Hooters Saves the World - With Nylons

If you think about Hooters a few things come to mind.  Boobs are up there I'm sure.  And wings, probably that too.  And perhaps one of the things you'd think about are nylons.  Shinny, tan nylons.  While Hooters may remind you of nylons and vice versa, nylons probably won't make you think about saving the environment.  I certainly never thought of them that way.  Well not until recently.

In the beginning of June we were told to start keeping our used, ripped, torn and otherwise well-loved nylons.  This probably sounds weird.  Or like the idea of some nylon fetishist.  In reality, Hooters is using all those nylons to do their part to clean up that big, oily mess in the Gulf.  You know, the one caused by all that oil? 

Jokes aside, Hooters really is collecting the nylons from 380 domestic restaurants through the organization Matter of Trust.  Being collected for the entire month of June, the used nylons will be filled with hair, fur, feathers and other materials creating booms that will soak up the oil.  Hooters goal is to collect 100,000 pairs of nylons that would be used to create 15 miles of booms with the potential to soak up one million gallons of oil.

It seems to me like a pretty natural progression.  If you need a lot of nylons Hooters seems like a pretty good place to get them.  And while it won't stop the oil, it certainly will aid in cleaning up some of it.  Which at this point is really all that can be done.  Besides watching it continue to leak.

So if you chance by Hooters before the end of June, realize those nylons on your Hooters Girl could very well be soaking up lots of oil in the very near future.  And you thought they just made our legs shinny.

Not So Smart Girl and the Wedgie

When I began my journey at Hooters I figured I'd spend a fair amount of my time defending my job.  Perhaps not even so much as defending my job, but rather defending my own intelligence and substance.  Defending myself as an individual.  And it turns out that yes; I have had to do my fair share of proving myself in a way.  I've had to show people that I am not some stereotype and that - perhaps more importantly - that stereotype doesn't really exist.  But you know all this. 

What I wasn't really prepared for when I began at Hooters was the fact that my family would also have to defend my job.  This leap is understandable, but it's not something that really crossed my mind until the first time I watched my Mom defend me in front of a particularly nosey and outspoken neighbor.  You know the type; we all have one in neighborhood.  It was then that I realized my family had to escape the Hooters stigma too. 

My sister has perhaps done the most in defending my job.  When at a party, she encountered a girl speaking about one of her classmates.  I'm not sure of the full content of the conversation, but I know it was punctuated by "and get this, she freaking works at Hooters" and other such negative things.  The girl she happened to be talking about was Ariel and my sister just so happens to adore her.

Sister:  "Oh you know Ariel?  She is so perfect and gorgeous and smart.  Did you know she's a philosophy major?  And on top of being pretty and smart she's generally awesome too."

Score, sister, score.  But that altercation is not the most heinous thing my dear sister has encountered.  The most awful thing happened in class.  In a university meant to be a bastion of higher learning.  You know, a place where people are supposed to smart.  Apparently admission standards have really gone downhill.  Anyway, there she was one day in class discussing something or other that was generally educationally when this happened.

Not So Smart Girl:  "Well Hooters has the highest fecal matter of any restaurant because the girls there are always having to pick their wedgies.  That's why I'd never eat there."

Naturally, my outspoken, opinionated, awesome sister went on to shut this girl down because she is - as I mentioned - awesome.  And actually has a brain.  That's important to note as well.  I love you, dear sister, thanks for further illustrating the splendid thing that is our gene pool. 

So, Not So Smart Girl, lets break this down shall we.  First off, I don't pick my wedgies at work.  Believe it or not, nylons are rather taut and as such I don't get many wedgies.  I have to say, the whole not having wedgies thing is a pretty nice feeling.  Second, if I did pick a wedgie at work I'd likely follow said wedgie picking with hand washing.  Mainly this is because I'd probably be picking my wedgie in the privacy of a bathroom.  As hot as picking nylons and shorts out of my crack on the floor would be I don't think my customers would really appreciate it.  Finally, why on earth would there be fecal matter involved at all.  I'm pretty sure the best way to pick a wedgie is from the outside, not the inside, of the situation.  Why on earth would I randomly have my hand down the inside of my nylons in my butt crack?  That's right, I wouldn't.  So this leaves me with the idea that you somehow think that I have poop all over the outside of my shorts.  How the hell did that get there?!  That's just awkward.

Don't worry, Not So Smart Girl, my hand did not go from my crack to your Daytona wings.  I'm pretty sure I know about basic hygiene.  Or at least I know a lot more about it than you know about basic logic.   

The Million Dollar Question

So a lot of people search the following question in some form or another; do Hooters Girls wear underwear with their uniforms?  First off, that is so fucking creepy.  The fact that you think about this shit is quite frankly disgusting, disturbing and so wrong.  I really don't want to think about some perv imagining my state of undress beneath my nylons.  I'm already scantily clad, is it really necessary for you to go beyond that?  Is it really necessary for you to imagine my vagina against my nylons while I serve you hot wings?  No, I don't think that is necessary.  In fact, the very idea that you think about vaginas and food at the same time is bit off putting.  Yes, I realize you're a guy, but most men still have standards.  Standards that include not obsessing over the girly parts (below the belt at least) of Hooters Girls while you're eating.  Yes, I realize this is Hooters, but it's not a damn strip club and my vag is covered up.  Stop effing imagining it.  So allow me reiterate once again that I find you disgusting - just incase you couldn't deduce that on your own.

Unfortunately, my rant has now left most of you probably wondering about the underwear situation.  Fine, some Hooters Girls wear underwear and some don't.  It's a personal preference.  We do what we want in regards to our private areas.  I won't tell you what I do, because frankly the material surrounding my intimate areas is for my eyes only, and of course my boyfriend if he existed.  So stop thinking about what's under the uniform.  Case closed.  If you like vag that much go to a titty bar or find a prostitute - either way.

A New Take on Nylons

The first thing I noticed was that he was wearing suspenders - and a belt.  Apparently, he was the sort of man that was very interested in keeping his pants in the right place.  Or he liked contrast of the suspender, belt combo over his red flannel shirt, either way.  Needless to say, I was hardly surprised when he told me he was in town for a model train sale.  After all, what is more cliché for a toy train collector than flannel and suspenders?  The belt must have been for good measure.

After taking in his outfit, I noticed the size of his teeth.  They were the sort of teeth that might be dentures, but you're not really sure.  Suddenly you find yourself staring awkwardly at a middle-aged man's mouth unable to deflect your eyes.  Luckily, beyond being a snappy dresser, my guest was also a stunning conversationalist.  Of course by conversation I mean him talking and me feigning interest with a quick nod and smile here and there.

"I notice you're wearing nylons," he said pointing at my pantyhose clad legs without any warning.

"Oh yeah, it's a Hooters staple.  There have been Hooters Girls since 1983 and we're probably wearing the same nylons they did," I replied with a forced laugh.

"I do love nylons."  Expecting him to begin regaling me about his nylon fetish I braced for the worst.  Nothing could have prepared me for what came next.

"Did you know they have nylons for men?  My nylons look as good on me as yours look on you.  They do wonders for the legs."  Um what?!

Suddenly, I found myself being initiated into the unknown world of male active legwear.  Whereas I have developed a deep disdain for all things relating to nylons, my wing-eating guest raved about their comfort under jeans, khakis and all manner of pants.  Naturally, after hearing a rather lengthy review of male nylons, I made the assumption that my new friend must be gay, or a transvestite.  Luckily, at this moment of discovery, he proved me otherwise.

"You know, male legwear is really best at the strip club," he casually offered as I came crashing back to reality.  "I prefer spandex leggings when I'm at my favorite club.  You see with spandex the girls can really slide around.  They'll get stuck on jeans and they really hate that.  My favorite girl was telling me that just the other day.  Yes, they really don't like the jeans."

I stared blankly as I tried to process all the information I'd just heard and somehow managed to say, "I see."

"Oh, and speaking of my favorite girl reminds me that I really should get her a shirt.  Do you have something white?  I think that would show up in the backlights really nicely.  Oh and did I tell you she looks like Marilyn Monroe?  Yes, she'd look great in something white."

"I'll go grab you a few options to look at.  We'll find her just the right thing."

Bringing back an assortment of tanks and t-shirts, he settled on a classic Hooters tank top in a crisp white.  I bagged the shirt, handed him his check and brought him the correct change.  As I was counting out the appropriate coins and bills he pulled out his wallet.  Rather than simply taking the change, he reached into his wallet and pulled out a business card.

"You know you should really look up these male nylons," he said handing me the card.  "Great people over in Ohio.  I mean just dynamite people."

"Oh, yeah, I'll check that out for sure.  Sounds pretty interesting."

"Oh it really is, just amazing stuff.  One day all men will wear them.  I'm just sure of it.  And remember, if you're ever at the strip club look for the man in spandex!"

I cautiously smiled.  I'll be sure to do that, sir.

Check out ComfiLon's Activ Skin at www.comfilon.com.  Prepare to be amazed.

The Uniform of a Hooters Girl

The uniform of a Hooters Girl is an interesting thing. Instantly identifiable, the uniform evokes thoughts of sex, breasts, and wings in millions of people the world over. Now when I, and countless other Hooters Girls, see the uniform sex and hot wings are probably the farthest thing from mind. Sorry to ruin the illusion that Hooters Girls are constantly thinking of enumerable ways to stroke your ego, but really we’re often worrying about how much our asses hang out or if we look fat today – this is the woe of the orange shorts.

Following is a head-to-toe rundown of the Hooters Girl uniform from the eyes of a Hooters Girl.

Tank Top: The Hooters Girl tank top is, obviously, made of Lycra. As it is super stretchy the tank top is only available in super small sizes like XS and XXS and occasionally S. But don’t let the sizes fool you; even if you’d regularly wear a medium you’ll squeeze into a top that looks like it’s made for a child – trust me, it’ll fit. Getting the oh so small top perfectly tucked into the shorts is a considerable feat that involves rolling and folding and careful placement in an effort to avoid awkward lines interrupting the awesomeness that is the orange shorts.

Shorts: Hooters distinctive orange shorts are a gift to nylon as a fabric and bring the 80s running short to a new high in the fashion world. The shorts are also available in sizes ranging from XXS to S. Now according to the Hooters Manual my butt is never to hang out of my shorts, but it will and it does pretty much constantly just as every other girl in the restaurant (you’re welcome, guys, you’re welcome). The shorts will simultaneously leave you with what I call the “mom jean ass” creating a beautiful contradiction of sexy and frightening. The mom jean ass is a direct result of having to pull the shorts up just right so you create the “smile”. A Hooters must, the smile means making your shorts higher to the sides yet lower in front – making your shorts appear to be smiling. The smile allows me to hang my ass out, have the longest looking butt ever and hide the muffin top that the uniform creates on even the thinnest of girls. And finally, of course there is the camel toe but I have a major defense against that one…

Pouch: The Hooters pouch is the ultimate camel toe defense as it conveniently hides all the embarrassing front bits. The pouch comes in both brown to be worn with the generic uniform and black for Fridays and special occasions on which we wear the all black uniform (something every Hooters Girl loves and wishes she could wear everyday). Having several pockets, the pouch will be your own portable cash register and pen/Sharpie holder. It is important to note that the pouch is to be worn to the top of the shorts with no orange showing above the band.

Nylons: If you read my blog since way back when you will know that I loathe the Hooters nylons. The nylons come in letter sizes with D being the biggest (meant for tall freaks like myself). In addition to being horribly tan, they are slightly thicker than the average nylons causing them to be fairly opaque. The nylons are also atypical in that they are footless. Now a constant debate among the Hooters Girls I know is if the nylons should be worn with or without underwear. Personally, I find it more comfortable to forgo underwear however this is personal preference. So take additional pleasure in knowing your Hooters Girl may be commando.

Socks: Any good 80s style uniform is not complete without scrunched socks. The socks are one size fits all and when not pushed down go to the knee. The scrunching of the socks is a true science as they must be even and end at the bottom of the calf. This is done to draw attention to the shape of the leg.

Shoes: Every Hooters Girl wears the same (or a variation on the same) white Sketchers. Not only do Sketchers have the right “look” but also add height with the addition of a relatively thick sole. The shoes must stay white at all times.

So basically the uniform of the Hooters Girl that you’ve all come to know and love is one big pain in the ass. Yeah, there is something to be said about being the personification of an iconic American image, but it’s not always so glamorous. It takes work to looks good and I do it like it’s my job – oh wait, it is.

My Worst Enemy: Nylons

I hate wearing nylons. This is especially true of the lovely tan nylons every Hooters Girl around the country proudly sports. That's right, for those of you who thought we all just had amazingly shiny legs I hate to disappoint but it's all hosiery (sorry to ruin the facade). And it's hosiery that all of us Hooters Girls generally despise.

As a girl that has very long legs that she loves very, very much I find the fact that I have to cover them up with nylons slightly sad. Yes, I realize that I probably wouldn't want to wear the shorts without the nylons (they are mighty short) but that doesn't make me hate the nylons any less. Mostly my distaste for the nylons comes from the fact that they always seem to run at less than convenient times in less than convenient places.

Today for example I was enjoying a particularly slow Monday (snore, yawn). Well even on a slow Monday you can run your ass off because odds are you'll have half of the tables in the restaurant. So I'm running back and forth bringing wings, taking orders and generally trying to stay busy when I catch a glimpse of myself in the window. There to my horror was a very unsightly, very large run in my nylons that happened to be right at that spot where your legs meet your butt. Now normally if this area of myself was slightly exposed I wouldn't mind so much but the beauty of pantyhose is that they suck everything in ever so slightly so when you get the right sized hole in the right spot you bulge out like you ate too many fried twinkies. Lord knows how long I was running around and bending over with my ass hanging out for all to see; at least I put on a good show.

So I hate nylons and yet I wear them everyday and spend money on them all the time (at 4 bucks a pop I'd hate to know what I spend on hosiery annually). Yet they do keep my legs looking summertime tan year-round and I always look extra shiny. Thanks nylons, I love to hate you so much.

Oh and I'm still without my laptop so posts have been rather sporadic. It seems the old Dell just can't handle the internet so well anymore.