He asked to see my ass and made a grimace of pure disgust when I showed him. He grabbed his own belly roll to indicate that I was chubby. He asked me my age and because I told him the truth which wasn't within the 12-30 age range that his clientele fantasized, and upon hearing the actual number which for some reason, I didn't lie about, I was even more disqualified. Contrary to the blog post I had read, being of mixed race Japanese descent set me kilometers behind the true Japanese school girl in the panty selling race. This exchange was definitely about me being a strong American diva who stood in stark opposition to the culture of the fantasized Japanese girl panty wearer. Sex work had evolved me into a diva warrior and I would never take it back for the days of living in a powerless world of feeling abused and victimized by the licentious garbage men who would whistle at me as a teenager. Tales of empowered teenagers in Japan (ko-gals) who sold their panties to places like this and went on genki non sexual dates (engeiki-jo) with older men reached us in the U.S and I knew better than to think that the opportunistic diva spirit didn't reside under the skirt of some of the super kawaii girls too.
I came here for the experience of selling my used panties and I was not going to leave until I had completed that sale. Grandpa let me take photos of the shop, which was a small room packed with school uniforms from different schools, some known as more elite than others, a large box of used underwear, and clotheslines with women's polaroids next to their associated pairs of underwear. The blog post said bloody period underwear would sell, but the grandpa on shift told me otherwise. I was so intrigued that blood stained underwear would sell according to blood type that i posted about this on my Facebook with quite a stir. In Asian countries blood type seems to be a determinant for dating matches because they believe it is something like horoscopes. In Western countries, even if we blood test often for STDs none of us are ever told what our blood type is, I even checked to see if it was listed on my birth certificate and it wasn’t on there. This was another unfortunate thing for me as the seller because I had plenty of blood stained pairs of used underwear I'd love to off to the grandpas of Japan. I went to one of the hugest comic cons in Tokyo recently with one of my friends and we observed so much of this school girl fascination in different illustrations it seemed like not being into underage girls was the true crime. “I'm just not interested in 12 year old lesbians,” my fellow American male said to me while we passed a poster of two anime girls in a wide eyed naked embrace fresh out of a bathroom together. “I bet this stuff would actually be confiscated if you tried to bring it back to the U.S as child porn.” It made me laugh to hear something so matter of fact in a non primal direction from a male. He actually pointed out the fact that TSA inspectors are trained to confiscate material that pictured this scene exactly. But, to the Japanese viewer it was normal. I had enough to write my blog piece and I was ready to leave and not return to this joint. The final selling process was similar to selling CDs in that it required your address and signature. When I finally received my 1500 yen I promptly headed down the stairs to look for a nearby bar to have a drink and message friends about the crazy and somewhat humiliating cultural experience. I assured myself that I got something more than a little cash out of the experience, I had some fun and definitely learned something new and strange.
