God, it looks like you've been wearing that dress of yours all your life, instead of just your special day. You know, there are other dresses out there that would have suited you better, don't you? Some special day, in a dress like that.
Why am I even listening to you anyway?
How about because I'm your mother, for starters.
Well, I don't care who you happen to be. The dress stays on.
Where did you find it anyway? Dumpster diving behind a second-hand store?
Stop it.
Oh, I'm stopping it all right. And for good.
But, you're not even giving it a ...
... look, from the first time I saw it, I said to myself, that isn't you.
Cut it out, mother.
You, in a dress like that. And you're not going out of my house in it.
No, I'm keeping it on, and you can't stop me from leaving with it on.
And if you keep that dress on, your special day will be your last. One way or another, I'm the one who is going to put a stop to it.
And how do you plan to do that, mother?
Didn't I say that the dress isn't fitting for you? Well, it's giving me a perfect fit.
Put down ... just put down the scissors, mother. What are you doing?
Until death do us part, I do.
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