|So not me.|
We were walking by Hooters when he encouraged me to apply. "You'll get a job there for sure. And waitresses make good tips." I reminded him that not only do you have to be well-endowed, but your butt has to fit into those tiny shorts. I was not going in there.
Guess what? We ended up going in there. I sat down and awkwardly filled out the application. I almost made it the whole way through. Then I had to list my most recent positions. The school year wasn't quite out yet, so the first "employer" I had to list was my agency. The agency that sent me in to work with Kindergardeners. I realized that it wasn't just the booty shorts that were going to be a problem. There was no way I was going to have Hooters call my agency for a reference. As much as I wanted a summer job I wanted to keep my job come fall.
I ended up working as an interim secretary.
When I lived in Idaho, I tried so desperately to fit in. I went to book clubs where I read horrible teen novels with English Lit grads who told me Hemingway was in no way the author of "A Farewell to Arms." I went to dinner parties with couples we had nothing in common with, trying to find any way I could to relate.
One time, I even went to a sex toy party.
You know the kind. It's like a tupperware party only you're sitting there with a room full of women talking about putting things in weird places and the size of their husband's...endowments. Apparently even in Idaho's ultra conservative culture, it's okay to be super slutty with your words as long as everyone present is married and you're talking about your husbands.
With a group of close friends, I could see this. But some of these women were each other's in-laws. That means that some of them were hearing about their brother's sexual habits. I sat quietly in my chair and tried to figure out why I was putting myself through this.
When it came time for the business building part of the party, I was so, so happy to be able to say, "I'm sorry. I can't sell sex toys. I work with kids. And that catalog just wouldn't look right next to the Avon catalog in the teacher's lounge."