Fri 18 Jan 2013 In: Weddings and Civil Unions View at Wayback View at NDHA
Oh the lesbian jokes that run through your head when you’re in a nail salon. But when they ask ‘what you want done?’ you can’t exactly say ‘something that I can actually manoeuvre on the wedding night’. Especially when you are at the salon with your mother-in-law. You see, for anyone who doesn’t know, the very first bullet-pointed paragraph in Lesbian 101 is all about the fingernails. They need to be kept short. For obvious reasons. So getting my nails done, in fact extended, is a foreign experience – but, hello, I am getting married, in a dress, and the full femme treatment is required. So I didn't take a friend's suggestion and get the full Lady Gaga treatment. Simple french tips sufficed. And it was actually rather enjoyable rubbing shoulders with west Auckland's finest housewives and grandmothers... it was like being on the set of Outrageous Fortune. To my great relief, aside from the hair and make-up to come on the day, the pre-femming is over. We got spray tans today. It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be, the whole wearing nothing except a disposable g-string in front of a stranger thing. You just chat away like you’re oblivious to your own nudity. When she ordered me to spread my legs I did stop myself from saying "I usually at least get bought a drink first." The only minor drama was when we finally arrived home and then the heavens opened… we weren’t allowed to get wet… so had to sit in the car waiting for it to clear. Oh, it’s hard being a girl. So with my hair dyed, skin tanned and nails done I can relax about the girly stuff and concentrate on the nine million things we have to get done before Saturday. Thankfully we have an army of helpers, from Ireland, the USA, Australia and even New Caledonia. However, I’m not the only one getting femmed up. Our Flower Bear must have had last minute cold feet. He tried to pull out, saying he didn’t have a dress. Luckily the ever-wonderful cheap and cheerful treasure trove known as Geoff’s Emporium has a whole rack of pre-loved wedding dresses (many of which nobody should ever have been worn, let alone loved) for $50 a pop. My girlfriend found the largest, most frou frou and hideous dress on the rack and as she was pulling it down a woman and her daughter exclaimed ‘That’s lovely, is that for you?’ and before she could reply our New Caledonian chef-bear piped up with ‘No darling, it’s for me!’ Followed by ‘No, I joke... it’s for my husband!’ They were speechless. I was on the other side of the store when I looked around and saw him topless and my fiancé trying to get the dress on him for a size test – he is a similar size to his partner, Flower Bear, who was yet to arrive from Brisbane. They don’t have changing rooms at Geoffs. The sight of him in that dress and my lady love trying to do up the zip, with people all over the store entranced, will stay with me forever. We bought that, and a rainbow flag. Just in case they were still wondering if we were queer. The staff at Geoff’s Emporium in Henderson were wonderful by the way – they seemed to be having as much fun as we were, just watching us. Anyway back to the nine million tasks. But nothing too physical for me … it’s hard enough to even type with these nails … (being a girl has its benefits, it seems). (Editor's note: Jacqui and Dee get Civil Unioned tomorrow surrounded by family, friends and colleagues. We wish them both all the happiness it is possible to cram into two lives lived as one and to the max.) Jacqui Stanford - 18th January 2013