Christmas was rapidly approaching. The shortfall between housing benefit and my actual rent was a constant worry. I needed to earn some quick cash but limited by disabilities.
I remembered watching a programme once where a lady sold her used knickers. I know right? She’d buy 10 pairs from the market for £2, wear them for 24 hours and then post them for £10 a pair. Nice profit margins for minimal effort. But it was so long ago I couldn’t remember how she found the buyers. I’ll have a google.
Well….lots of used knicker websites out there. But they call them panties. Pre-loved underwear. Hundreds and thousands of buyers on one site alone. Apparently. And the price they were selling them for! Anything from £15 to £50 for used lingerie. £35 for a bra?! After accident I put on weight and have loads of undies I can’t squeeze into any more. Sitting on a goldmine!
Then I probably forgot about it. Then probably thought about it again and forgot about it.
Then I told Sophie and we laughed.
Then I rang my friend Jo and said ‘can you take photos of me in my underwear? And can I come to yours because your chaise lounge will be the perfect prop’.
There was a brief of time in my life when I was body confident. But post-accident, minimal movement and weight gain side effects of meds, this was definitely not it. Jo kept saying “don’t worry! You look womanly!” (?!) and then asked if I could lift up & hold my bum cheeks behind me and I want to say I internally wept but I couldn’t stop laughing.
Then the naming ceremony. Who should I be?!
“How about blah?” “No, that’s my niece’s name “How about blah?” “No that’s blah’s friend! “How about blah?” “No that’s my dog’s name!”
In the end I settled on one. And as I drove home I thought ‘she’ll tell her husband & there is no way I want a single person I know finding me online selling dirty knickers. I need a new name’. Yes she told him! Smarter than I look, me.