Some moments are so big, they shape our lives. Some are too trivial to even remember the next day. But some moments are so traumatic you literally block it out until some outside catalyst forces you to remember it.

In my case, they were giving away a FREE loaf of Great Harvest Bread at ward prayer to the person with the best embarrassing moment! Showcase my idiocy and teenage thunder thighs for a loaf of tasty bread?? DON'T MIND IF I DO!! So, as requested, here it is....

My very first trip to the temple was as a 12 year old to do baptisms for the dead. I went with a large group from my ward with both our Young Men and Young Women. As it was my first time, I was understandably nervous about messing up. I was also (as teenage girls are prone to be) very self-conscious about my weight. I was NOT a small girl. I was not only tall for my age but was also what you might call "chubby", to put it mildly. (Who am I kidding. I was a total Fatty McButterpants.)

So everything is going along smoothly as we do the baptisms. The boys get done way before the girls so they were waiting for us in the chapel, watching the girls take their turn in the font. Well, I was super nervous so I asked to go last. After I was done, I hurried out of the font to find myself entirely alone. The little old sister handing out towels was gone. I had no idea where to go. And worse than that, in my young mind, was the fact that I was now standing there soaking wet, in white clothes, with my corpulent backside facing the young men, watching me from the chapel. So I hurried through the first door I saw.

It was rather quiet through this door, but at least I was safe. And there was a shower, so that had to be a good sign, right? I got undressed and showered, and then put my wet clothes down some laundry chute. There was a towel hanging there, but I'm pretty sure it would hold its own in the World's Tiniest Towel (WTT) contest. Irritated that the sweet little temple lady still hadn't come back to show me where to go, world's tiniest towel or not I found my way through to the dressing room feeling quite proud of myself for not needing help.

It was even more quiet in the dressing room, despite the fact that my older sister and a bunch of young women were supposed to be dressing in here....? Odd....I started getting suspicious when I saw the lack of hair dryers and hair scrunchies....and finally, the suit hanging by a locker confirmed it - I was, in fact, in the men's locker room. And, lest you forget, not only was I a 12-year-old fat girl in a men's locker room, I was a wet, cold, and practically naked 12-year-old fat girl in the men's locker room. I couldn't even put my wet clothes back on, thanks to the laundry chute.

So, with only my now thoroughly wet WTT for company, I realized I had two choices - make my way to the ladies room through the chapel, in front of all our Young Men's group and everyone else in the baptistry OR go back through the men's locker room, back out into the baptistry in my WTT, also in front of all our Young Men's group and everyone else in the baptistry.

Since the latter choice at least offered the illusion of privacy (clear glass separating the font from the viewing area vs. me, in the flesh, two feet away from unforgiving teenage boys) I opted to go with the baptistry route.

The little old sister was faithfully back at her post, naturally, with a whole new group of youth waiting to be baptized. Her eyes got big as she saw me, speechless. She threw another, larger, towel around my shoulders and finally found words, asking, "Sister, what happened?!" (Oh, sure...NOW she cares.)

I must have mumbled something about the "wrong door" "shower" and "no clothes" because she threw a garment shield over me and apologized profusely as she led me into the correct locker room.

My biggest mistake (really, just the one?) was telling my older sister what happened, when she asked what took so long. She proceeded to tell all the Young Women in the (correct) locker room, who each made sure the boys knew that the naked chubby girl streaking through the baptismal font was, in fact, me. (You know, just in case they hadn't recognized me in my natural state.)

Incidentally, I also left my brand new glasses in the (correct) locker room - what, I didn't mention the fact that I got my first pair of giant geeky glasses the day before? - so our leader had to drive back so I could run in and get them.

And, because clearly NOTHING IS ALLOWED TO GO RIGHT, in my hurry to stop the nightmare I shut my long, super flowy skirt in the car door. Because just in case I wasn't feeling stupid enough, I wanted to ensure that when we got back to the Church for treats, my skirt was nice and soaked, all muddy from our drive through the snowy streets.

Yeah, that was a fun night.

(I really never realized just how embarrassing this was until I told my family, years later. They about died laughing and couldn't believe I hadn't ever told them. I honestly didn't even think about it until the ward prayer peeps bribed it out of me. Clearly the Lord is merciful by giving morons like me a porous memory.)

On the bright side, I did win that bread at ward prayer! So yeah, totally worth it.