A former Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader has founded a website called BreastaurantUniforms.com, where restaurateurs can get help turning “any restaurant into a breastaurant!”
There are a number of reasons I am not excited about making the world a more receptive place for breastaurants. Breastaurants are objectively gross in that they’re over-priced and serve terrible food. (If you actually like Hooters’ hot wings, you should really just scrape the taste buds off your tongue for all the good they’re doing you.) Then there’s the yawn factor–breastaurants are part of a larger model of normalized raunch-culture heterosexuality (see: clubs, strip or MILFest) wherein men buy/appraise sex/sexuality and women sell sex, and never shall the gender roles switch, because women only give sex in exchange for love/survival, never for pleasure, and men only give love in exchange for sex, which they would ideally get without love if they could help it. There’s one way to have sex, one way to be sexy, and deviance from the norm is frowned upon. Which leaves a whole lot of people out of the equation.
And then there’s the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader connection, here. Cheer coaches, cheerleaders and team ownership alike have all gone to great lengths at various times to pretend like it isn’t REALLY sexual objectification, like, today to have beautiful women dancing around a football field for a pittance per game in the name of getting the attention of more viewers who presumably can’t be asked to watch football unless there’s a nearly naked lady involved. It’s not precisely the same idea as a strip club, but the ethos is similar: men take care of the real business, have the real talents and skills, and women exist to make the process more visually/sexually pleasurable for men. (Before the trolls get here: “pussy power” is a joke, and here’s why.)
One hopes that Terra Watson, the former Cheerleader who founded Breastaurant Uniforms, would not try to argue that breastaurants aren’t based in sexual objectification. It’s all of a piece. Women buy into the idea that their value is mostly tied into how physically attractive they are within a particularly constraining set of beauty ideals, because if you’re lucky enough to look like a Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader, you might–might–be able to skate by on that until you’re, I don’t know, 30.
After that, I guess you found a clothing company that perpetuates the same demeaning, objectifying system of which your mindset is a product, thereby helping to lock women (and men) into the same constraining sexual narrative that puts everyone who doesn’t live in a romantic comedy or Playboy spread at a disadvantage (read: that’d be everyone.)
I mean, there’s a point at which I don’t fault women for trying to play the game. I guess Terra Watson chooses her choice. But then there’s a point at which I am like fuck it, ladies, quit playing the game that you lose, even when you win.