Planning a wedding can be a nightmare.

There’s the one where I am married, turn to kiss the groom and find I’ve married the wrong man. (Even worse, it’s my ex-boyfriend).

Then, there’s the one where Ed doesn’t show up and I’m forced to pull a random man out of the crowd to marry.

Then there’s the one where my wedding gown is tucked into the back of my wedding dress.

It goes on and on….

I keep telling myself not to stress about the wedding. As long as the marriage is good, what’s one day, right?

Unfortunately, that’s not what everyone else keeps telling me.

It’s the one rule that no one tells little girls who dress their Barbie dolls in white and have make-believe weddings: Somewhere, Barbie’s mother, mother-in-law, best friend, or, more likely, all three, are telling her she picked the wrong dress, no one really likes the cheese and fruit plate and it’s too bad the really nice reception hall was already booked.

Like the other day, I was shopping for a completely unrelated item with my mother at the Wrentham, Mass., outlets and I saw a dress. Sweet. Simple. Elegant. A definite maybe. I’m not ready to rush out and buy yet, but I’m filing ideas away for the future. (Yes, I’m still stuck in reception hall mode.)

My mother looked at the dress, wrinkled her nose, and said, “Oh you want it short. But,” she added, helpfully, “Maybe it won’t be that short on you. You’re much shorter than that dummy.”

Oy vey.

Then there’s the reaction of Ed’s family. Since Ed has been divorced once, no matter how much they like me, Ed’s family isn’t ready to trust that he’s going to be the best judge of who he should marry. In fact, his mother advised him to play it safe.

“You don’t have to marry her,” his mother told him. “You could just live with her forever.”

Oy vey.