Dinner And A Booby: Working At A 'Breastaurant' In The Age Of 'My Body, My Choice'

We spoke with several servers who worked at places like Hooters and Twin Peaks. Their perspectives tell a complicated story with multiple glaring inconvenient truths.

“The worst thing that ever happened to me on the job – and it still sticks with me to this day – was this table of two couples that left me a single penny as a tip. When I asked them if something was wrong with the service, one of the women said to me, ‘It’s all you deserve. You’re dumb and you only got this job because of the way you look.’ I told her, ‘Keep your penny. I’m sorry you’re so insecure with yourself.’” -Heidi Besett, former Hooters Girl

Growing up, my breasts were at best an afterthought. My mother was relatively small-chested, so I knew early big bosoms weren’t in the genetic cards. I also studied ballet seriously, and in those days, the Balanchine body ― thin limbs, long lines, no curves ― was the ideal. I counted myself lucky I could easily go braless in my leotard and grand jeté without my jugs bouncing all over the place. Besides, having big boobs wasn’t just disadvantageous for dance but also detrimental to my self-image: I was not, nor would I ever be, “that type of girl.” I was an ambitious, very smart, Harvard-bound, young woman (irony noted). Flaunting your décolletage may be fashionable in some circles, but I regarded it as a cheap parlor trick relied upon by females less intellectually endowed.