Oh how I wish I were a celebrity gay male couple (well not both of them...). The world is your oyster. From homosexuality being unspoken and hidden in the media, suddenly it’s everywhere! From watching nubile young men indulge in a bit of rodeo action in Brokeback Mountain to sharing in the celebrations as D-list hairdressers, stylists and colonic irrigation technicians line up to take their partners ‘up the aisle’ (I said aisle!).

Last week while waiting to pounce on the sole copy of Diva in WH Smith, Huddersfield, my gaze fell on the front page of OK Magazine. At first I thought Jordan was marrying Peter Andre for the second time though couldn’t remember reading about their divorce… Then I realised, that Mr and Mrs Andre were in fact bridesmaids to a much more spectacular event… the marriage of two rather fabulous young men dressed in matching white suits adorned with silicon enhanced lovelies of both the male and female variety.

I scrabbled around in my high waisted M&S jeans and found the extra few quid I needed. Without a second glance at the separatist feminist stood next to me, I hurried to the check out to purchase my hot gossip. Normally after purchasing Diva, next stop would be my local independently-owned coffee shop for a caffeine-free skinny latte with extra hot air and gluten/pastry free croissant, but not this time! I hurried back to my contemporary high-rise apartment for guilt-free consumption of a different kind. Oh how I feasted on the pictures of decadent, celebrity-fuelled gayness! "Yes! At last" I cried to my menagerie of cats "It’s cool to be queer!" Even Jordan and her saline-filled DD cups couldn’t put me off my visual feast of these rather resplendent young men and their obvious devotion to each other.

It wasn’t until thumbing the pages for "definitely the last time" that a little thought crept into the back of my mind…where are all the lesbians?

I wondered, if I were a celebrity lesbian, would OK or Hello magazine be getting in touch with me? Would there be such media frenzy for my pictures? Now, I know I’m no oil painting, but I can get dressed up when the occasion suits. I have been known to polish my Doc Martens from time to time, and if I look deep into the wardrobe, there’s a charity shop tuxedo jacket from the Victor/Victoria ball hidden away somewhere. Was it my own low self-esteem that prevented me from imagining two women on the cover of a trashy magazine, or was it that we are already over and misrepresented in top shelf trashy magazines?

Could it be that for lesbians, we are categorised into hardcore butch feminists or hardcore porn stars, neither of which would appeal to a fashion/fascist-savvy editor deciding what celebrity event to cover for the masses to gloat upon. Well bollocks to that darling!

I’ve decided to learn the guitar, get singing lessons, become ridiculously famous, kidnap a top photographer and have the Celebrity Wedding of the Year. Yes, Ms Parks and me will be celebrating our nuptials very soon at Hebden Bridge Community Centre and you can read all about it in the local lesbian newsletter. Now where’s my boot polish?

Sarah Schuster