Truly: "No. This wedding party is for you and Hubbell, right? This is the first time he's going to introduce you to the world as his wife. He cannot see you in a t-shirt and shorts."
Michelle: "He's already seen me pee behind a cactus in Pahrump, so I don't think a little casualwear is gonna kill the deal now..."
Truly, trying truly: "Wait here. Please. You took the only man I ever loved in my life, so the least you can do is wait."
Sam is shitty to her some more, and Truly comes out with a lovely black cocktail dress, which of course she sewed for her own personal self, and will fit Michelle even better because of her stripper legs, and then drags her away for shoes to match the dress. I'm not so sure I can handle Truly. It's not the character and it's not really the dialogue, and I don't even really think it's the actor, I just... Ugh. Truly? Truly, Truly? This is how you truly are? But I guess hating the everloving shit out of Sookie St. James never stopped me from loving Melissa McCarthy, so it'll probably be okay.
More talk about the bosom surfeit, including another mention of Ginny's mother issues and dieting, and Sasha tosses her some more body trauma before running off to find beer. Melanie shows up, asking after Sasha, and there's maybe something in the sprightliness of her step as she goes off to find her li'l buddy, leaving the blondes alone.
Like you do in the middle of throwing a party in your home, Boo finds Madame Fanny doing some lonely, lovely dance moves in the studio, all alone. Actually, it makes sense that she'd need a moment to herself, and that she'd retreat to her best thing. It's fabulous in its own right, but especially given the sort of sad rigorousness of what follows.
You want artsy people to be flighty, and performers to be dramatic, and sometimes that comes at your peril, because yes, dancers are artists and they are performers, but more than either of those, they are physical machines of perfection with a focus you can't even contemplate, meaning that even when they're being dramatic or messy they're still doing even that hardcore as fuck. They are scarier than tennis guys with this. Scratch a ballerina, you are going to find a bisexual cokehead that hates her mother and hoards candy. This is true 100 percent of the time, with absolutely no exceptions in the history of the universe, which I can tell you with full confidence because I have met and partied and eaten popsicles for dinner with each and every one of them, and I am dead serious when I say girl, they will wear you out.