Wednesday, April 10, 2013

Hooters = The Louvre?

Thank you, Hooters, for helping me get some intellectual exercise.

It's ironic, since  a woman's intellect is not exactly what's on display at Hooters. Recently, a Hooters waitress sued the chain. She had an unsightly scar from brain surgery, and wearing a wig was uncomfortable. Hooters said she would have to wear a head covering. After all, Hooters sells an experience, and a bald woman doesn't exactly fill the bill.

I've never liked Hooters. A Hooters Girl doesn't strip, but she does sell her body.
She cheapens womanhood -- her own and every other woman's.

Or does she? Why is it okay to admire a classical painting of a nude woman at a museum, but it's not okay to enjoy the beauty of a waitress at Hooters?

Two reasons. A Hooters Girl is there in the flesh. And she's showing too much of it.

Studying a nude portrait of someone you don't know is not the same as watching a real live woman taking your order for chicken wings. Admiring the beauty of a woman is fine -- unless you're admiring skin she should only reveal to her husband. A portrait of a nude in the Louvre elevates female beauty. Ogling a Hooters Girl reduces a woman to the status of an object.

Let the Hooters people try to tell me they're no different from a museum. The truth is, they're much greasier, and they denigrate the dignity of women. So I've still got a bone to pick with them.

Pass the ranch dressing.