Except I think there must be something wrong with me. After a bad first experience in a dress shop, I thought I'd got over it - I would only go to nice shops. But visiting two of these stores with their kind and helpful staff the other day - and not even trying on a dress - brought me out in an almost physical panic.
So last weekend, I took the first steps down the road of mental preparation for dress shopping. I booked some appointments at a couple of shops for a few weeks' time and then, with my Mum, went into a couple of different shops to browse.
The second I walked in to shop number one, I had an unpleasant feeling in the pit of my stomach, It was as if I was about to go on stage, aged seven, for my debut as a snowflake in the school play. It was so close to excitement - those lovely butterflies - but it wasn't nice.
The place was a bunfight - people were hauling dresses from racks, cramming themselves into unforgiving gold satin bridesmaid frocks and cooing, all of them cooing. In the whole shop, there might have been two dresses that I could have envisaged myself wearing - the rest just made me feel odd, a little bit sweaty and shaky. I felt slightly queasy.
In the second store, the room had four special corners, like stages, where brides could stand in their large white confections and stare at themselves in a dozen angled mirrors simultaneously. One girl was standing there, on the verge of tears, surrounded by middle-aged relatives who were all asking again and again, "Is this the one, d'y'think? Is it? Is this the one?' She just kept dumbly nodding and squeaking.
I left feeling wobbly. I've got to deal with the fact that there is a day booked soon when I will be the one in the dress. I really want that day to be fun. I really need to get over this.