"You're Wrong About Her. She's Got More Heart In Her Little Pinky Than You Have In Your Entire...Heart...Um...I Mean...Um..." Day!
The above is only one example of how you should observe the day. Make it your own, but just make sure you listen calmly, tolerantly, to whomever is trying to deprive you of your only shot at real happiness or fill you with all the doubt he or she (Father, usually, but Moms and lifelong housemaids serving as proxy for Moms fallen to consumption are awesome too) has fed upon ever since a certain choice was taken out of his or her hands. Let them believe their warnings are being heeded, their wisdom appreciated. Until they cross the line.
That's when you drop everything, or slam a book down on a desktop. Or throw a glass of brandy against the wall. Jump out of your chair and stand nose to nose with the old curmudgeon/barren shrew and tell him or her what you've kept hidden all these years. Unleash the pity you've tried to conceal ever since you were old enough to think for yourself. And, with one sentence, put your foot down, effectively shutting him or her off from your life and the decisions that are yours alone to make.
But fuck it up.
Mixed metaphors are hazy since a lot of people might not catch it. This is the defining moment of your life, the speech that determines how you're going to handle your looming adulthood, so it should look like a blooper reel, dig? Stammering and blanking on words is great. Hiccups, even better. Or wait, what if you get so angry that right when you tell the old prune to butt out, you fart. A quick "POOT!" This is gonna rule.
Happy "You're Wrong About Her. She's Got More Heart In Her Little Pinky Than You Have In Your Entire...Heart...Um...I Mean...Um..." Day!