Bro

   Having written posts about two of my brothers, David and William, before, I figured I ought to write a post about my other "bro". Pip. Pip's not a guy. I know this for sure. No, I haven't checked for myself, but she's fairly pregnant right now, and unless she's got some sort of tumor that's giving her a big belly, I'm pretty sure that's proof enough that she's female. I mean, there was that man who had a baby, but didn't he used to be a woman and still had a uterus? I'm not entirely sure on the details. But Pip is probably pregnant, which means she probably has a uterus. From this, I can deduce that she is most likely a female. Also, boobs. Not that I stare at people's breasts, what with being straight and all, but having had epic conversations with Pip about bra shopping and breasts, I'm aware that she, too, has them.

   Why has this post so far been about men with uteruses (is this a word? I've just got Eamon to check, and he's found that uteruses is indeed a word) and my friend's breasts? Anyway. Pip is my "bro" regardless of gender. Although due to breasts and uteri (which, as he informed me, is the other plural form of uterus) we can assume that she is a female who just happens to be my bro. Because we have a "broship."

   I met Pip when I first came to Invercargill, and we bonded over both being redheads. And our personal oddities. Like failing at Science. Somehow, she told me, she'd once managed to set flour on fire. I don't even know how that's possible. On the same school sports day when Genevieve and I allegedly got married, Pip called me cheap and plastic. Because I was wearing a cheap plastic yellow tiara. Because, you know. House colours. We were both in Trail. As was Hannah. Fairly appropriate. We trailed behind. Our house chant was based (vaguely) on Sexyback. I don't even remember the exact words, but I do remember Pip and I making up our own version which poked fun at a bunch of girls we didn't like.

We're breaking [insert name here]'s back... yip

You silly girls just won't know how to act... yip

We'll cut you up and put you in a yellow hat... yip

   (At this point I must interrupt and inform you that the original line here was "No need for makeup, wear your yellow hat" which is why this somehow makes sense, k? Right. Back to the chant.)

So [insert names here] you better watch your back... yip

   Very mature.

   I didn't see a lot of Pip in year 10. She was running away a lot and getting into a bit of trouble, of which I need not mention here. We were still in the same Science class though, and the teacher used to always interrogate me on her whereabouts. I hadn't a clue, of course, I never knew when she was off on the run unless her mum called and asked our family to keep an eye out for her, and she never told me in great detail about where she went. But everyone assumed because she was my best mate, I must have somehow been involved. Pip knows what I'm like, though. I'd never have the guts to wag school. One of her friends tried to convince me once, but I was too scared of being caught. Sometimes it's ok to be pathetic, I think. It's (mostly) kept me out of trouble. Yeah, just keep telling yourself that, Bell-ez.

   After that year, I moved back to Queenstown, but I went back to Invercargill now and then during weekends and holidays to see all my friends down there, including Pip. A couple of years ago I had to go to Invercargill to get my wisdom teeth removed by a man called Mr Christmas. As it turned out, he wasn't Santa, and the procedure wasn't much like Christmas, because I can generally remember Christmas, but due to being all drugged up and groggy I don't remember much of it. I remember being awake in the car afterwards outside of the Countdown supermarket, and remembering the times Genevieve and I used to sing The Final Countdown every time we went past it. I don't remember how I got to the motel, I don't even remember going into the motel. I remember waking up on a motel bed and freaking out because I had no idea whereabouts in Invercargill I was, and I was disorientated and that freaked me out. I desperately wanted to go outside to figure out where I was, but my mouth was still bleeding and sore, and my mum wouldn't let me. I also couldn't chew anything for nearly two weeks afterwards. Pip was the one who sat there with me and ate as many Calci Yums as I did, just to make me feel better about the lack of solid food. She was the one who convinced Liz to let me go outside for a walk so I could stop freaking out, and promised to get me back asap if my mouth started bleeding to death. She also lent me one of her favourite hats, which is, of course, a great honour.

She called it the baseball groupie hat, and it was a token of our friendship.

   We also went to The $2 Shop that time. We rearranged all the coloured candles so the colours were all mixed up. The girls we didn't like (from the chant above) came into the shop too, and we contemplated stabbing them with the earrings. Unfortunately, it never eventuated. The shop lady looked at us like she wanted to kick us out, but fortunately she didn't.

    Last time I saw Pip was in February. I had to go to Spotlight in Invercargill to get some fabric for my dress for the school formal, and Pip was coming because I wanted a second opinion. No, I didn't, really. I just wanted an excuse to be allowed to hang out with her because it'd been ages. Besides, she'd recently told me about her pregnancy.

Just starting to get a bump. The baby's due in a couple of weeks, so I'm guessing it's much bigger now. Also, BABIES HAVE FINGERNAILS. Juno told me so.

   We probably ought to have been kicked out of Spotlight in the exact same way we weren't kicked out of The $2 Shop. We didn't really end up looking at much dress fabric. Instead Pip found the baby aisle, and started dissing everything in it, saying that her kid wasn't getting any of that rubbish. Then we found the wedding aisle (wedding aisle! Geddit!.... Sorry. I won't do that again....) and Pip opened at least three packets of confetti and showered them on me. We then dashed into the next aisle before we got caught. We vowed to blame it on her pregnancy hormones if we were.

   The next aisle appeared to be the "colourful things" aisle, and Pip immediately began wrapping me in feather boas. For some reason, I thought it was a smart idea to get photographic evidence.

For your viewing pleasure.

   Somehow we managed to not get kicked out, although I had confetti all through my shoes, and I spent the car journey back to Queenstown finding individual pieces of confetti on me and chucking them out the car window. My mum took one look at me and sighed. She didn't ask how I managed to get confetti on me. She probably didn't want to know.

   So as I mentioned above, Pip's baby is due in a couple of weeks. It's going to be a girl. She had a feeling it was going to be a boy, but after buying clothes saying "Mummy's little All Black" she decided perhaps she ought to find out the sex after all. Turns out it's a girl. Pip doesn't mind. She'll just dress her in boy's clothes and not care if the kid turns out to be a lesbian. Heck, I was dressed in boys clothes up to the age of ten, and I turned out straight.

   We spent nights on the internet, going through various baby name websites and pulling faces at all the icky ones. We came across some strange names, including Lankston. Apparantly it means "from the tall man's town." I immediately thought of a man I know, known as Lanky, and briefly wondered if his real name was Lankston, and whether Lanky was short for it. I then realised that there is nothing at all short about Lanky, and that his real name was Mike ( I didn't find that one out for a while, so if anyone ever mentions a Mike, I have no idea who they're talking about) and that he is only called Lanky because he is tall. I then felt rather stupid, and decided to leave this whole name choosing business to Pip. I gave her warning though.
"Whatever you do, don't call her Annabel. No one will ever be able to spell her name correctly, and they'll find a way to pick on her. They used to call me Anna-smell. Because "smell" rhymes with "bel"- aren't they clever? Anyway, don't give her a stupid name."

   Pip kept my advice in mind and settled for Kenzie. Like McKenzie, but without the Mc. I really like that name, actually.

   I remember last year, Pip came to Queenstown to stay for the weekend, along with my boyfriend at the time. (Now ex, that's a story I'm not too keen to get into right now. I could tell you an interesting story or two, but right now I don't know if that's really such a good idea. He did force me to watch Twilight though. I fell asleep halfway through. It didn't matter anyway, I just missed him telling Pip everything he knew about Robert Pattinson, which was far more than a straight man should know.) We somehow ended up watching both Juno and Knocked Up on the same night. Both really good movies, especially Juno, but wow. Pregnancy overload. Nothing will make you treasure condoms or abstinence quite like watching both of these on the same night. I know, because Pip and I discussed this afterwards. I reckon Pip will be fine though. She's not scared of anything. Not even childbirth.

Someone who isn't scared of childbirth. Which is why she's the one having a baby in two weeks, and I'm not.