Guest Post #2 ox

Wednesday, 4 February 2015

Hey Guys!!

Guest Post number 2 is here!! 

I really enjoyed reading this post as it was so funny!! I hope you enjoy it, here is an introduction from the lovely Vikki and her post!!

'Hi guys! I'm Vikki and as well as blogging I am a social media manager for a digital agency in Norfolk, UK.  Being online almost 24/7 means I get to meet all sorts of people and this blog was inspired by one of the more colourful ones!  I love music, writing, fitness and food.  Read more of my blogs at or you can come say hi at Facebook and Twitter'


Yesterday started out as an average day.  Alarm went off at 07:50.  Showered, brushed my teeth and picked out an outfit.  As it is still beautiful weather, I chose to wear a dress and as I didn’t have time to freshly shave my legs, I also chose to wear flesh coloured tights.
Fast forward to 09:02 and I had just arrived at the office and settled at my desk with a coffee.  Feeling an itch, I scratch my leg and snag my tights on my finger nail, ripping a ladder in them and putting me in a bit of a dilemma.  Do I take off my tights and hope no one notices the small amount of stubble or do I keep them on and hope no one clocks the ladder?  I voted to keep them on and, as I work in social media, also decided to tweet about it.

‘Been at work 2 minutes and have already laddered my tights! #Doh #oneofthosedays’
Innocent enough, right?  Well, maybe not as one hour and 55 minutes later, this happened…..

Now, spending 8 hours a day, 5 days a week on the internet, you see your fair share of strange, but I had not ever had it directed to me before, and to begin with, thought this was a joke.  Clicking through to his twitter profile, I saw scroll after scroll of women tweeting about their tights and @dumbbitchboy sending the exact same request to each and every one of them.  To buy their used tights.
I have to admit, the shine came off the whole experience a bit when I realised that I was not special, but just a result in a twitter search and then I started to really think about what was being asked of me.
Dumbitchboy is obviously a man with a foot fetish, but, unlike some that hide it away and order discretely from websites designed for them, he not only puts it out there quite confidently, but actively seeks it out using social media!  I was a little impressed by this.  That he was so secure in what he wanted that he did not hide it away.
I did what all girls do, and posted the above screen shot on my Facebook and asked my friends what they  thought.  Almost all of them laughed and asked how much he would be willing to pay.  This had not even crossed my mind, and as I am far too curious for my own good, I messaged him back and asked him his price.  I got a swift response of ‘£10-£15, depending on how much they smell (sorry to be gross). 
TEN TO FIFTEEN POUND! I had paid just £3 for a pack of 4 just a few days earlier and now I was being offered almost 5 times that much for one pair, just because they smelt like my feet!

The problem comes when you start to think about why he is willing to pay for your dirty tights, and what will happen to your tights once they have been delivered to Dumbbitchboy.  It’s easy to laugh about foot sniffing perverts talking to you on the internet, but when you think about a guy you have never met, getting aroused by sniffing your underwear, it suddenly feels a little seedy.  Would I send a photo of myself to a stranger for him to wank over? No I wouldn’t, so is this somehow different?  It is still selling a part of me for someones sexual pleasure after all.  I asked myself, if I was single, is this something that I would consider doing?  The answer was no, I wouldn’t feel comfortable with it, even if I was single.  But, again, I was curious so I asked a few friends and my boyfriend what they thought.
‘Its an easy £15 mate…’ll never meet the guy so why not’
‘I couldn’t do it Vik, the thought of someone having a wank at my smelly tights is too much!’
I might send a sock, but not tights..he says he is after the foot bit but you never know!’
and then an interesting opinion….
‘When you walk down the street, any guy that looks at you and finds you attractive will have wank banked you, gone home and next time he felt like it, would have thought of you.  How is this different?  Surely it’s better as he has asked your permission and has offered you a reward for your time!’
It is a difficult one to argue with.  How many guys that you pass on the street have done exactly that without your knowledge?  Or is it the fact that you don’t know it’s happening that makes it ok?  Ignorance is bliss as they say. But if you DID somehow know, would you demand something in return from them using you as material? Has Dumbbitchboy just taken out the anonymity slightly and just been a lot more honest about it all?(something we do seem to request from men a lot).
Being in a relationship also put a spin on things.  How would my partner feel if I rocked up home and told him I had sold my dirty tights to some guy from the internet?
‘How would you feel if I said I had sold my boxers to a woman online so that she could get off?’
I giggled at the thought, but he was right, I wouldn’t like it one bit and this was no different.  No different from selling photos of my breasts to guys online, or flirting with someone in a chat room.  There are certain things that I believe when you are in a relationship, only your boyfriend should see or, in this case, smell.  (he doesn’t sniff my tights by the way but you know what I mean!)
I did find it fascinating though just how many of my friends seemed perfectly ok with it.  Of course, they all laughed when I suggested hooking them up with Dumbbitchboy if they really wanted the money themselves, and most shrugged it off when it came down to them actually doing it, but a few had a glint in their eyes as they said no that made me think that if no one knew, they would surely do it for the money.
I got home that evening and the tights came off and went in the bin, where they have stayed and will be staying.  Maybe I was brought up a little too well, but I just couldn’t shake off that underlying ‘would that make me a kind of prostitute’ feeling that I don’t think even the most vigorous shower would ever wash away.