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Baptism For The Dead

Brother _______, (or Sister) having been commissioned of Jesus Christ, I baptize you, for and in behalf of _______, who is dead, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.

I only went once and it was a terrible experience. I was about 15. I wore a very nice pair of tailored wide-legged, knee length shorts that I borrowed from my mom with a nice tailored shirt. One of the old men at the temple told me that my attire was inappropriate since I was wearing "pants". That pissed me off. He said that he would allow me to remain in the temple that day, but I had to wear a DRESS or skirt the next time I came. I was humiliated and reamed out in front of all my "friends."

The baptism itself was very humiliating. I was a very shy girl and very ashamed of my voluptuous curves. I remember binding my breasts with an ace bandage when I was about 14. LOL! I was often mistaken as being much older than I was too. I had a very nice hourglass figure and often got catcalls and such from the Latino gardeners who worked at the apartment complex on my way home from School to my G-ma's house. I am also very tall and the dang jumpsuit did not fit - shall I say wedgie in front and back and little to leave to the imagination. I was led into the water and dunked a few times before I realized that my jumpsuit was completely see-through. I was mortified. When I got out I covered myself as best as I could with arms folded over chest, but boy did I feel the eyes of the old men on me as I rushed away. I could not scurry fast enough to hide behind the towel my YW leader was holding up for me.

I NEVER WENT BACK! That has to be the 2nd most degrading and uncomfortable experience of my life. 1st was the initiatory.

I was freaked out. Really freaked out...mostly because everything was so institutional and rigid and quiet. I couldn't wait to get out of there - I felt like I had to keep checking myself the whole day...I couldn't be me.

We didn't have to wear skirts though. They gave us some white karate kid jump suits which were okay but the neck came up so high and the fabric was itchy.

An old lady made a big deal of saying that no one could participate if they were having a period because that would defile the font. She and the other leaders were blushing and choking on the words until we all felt there was something really evil and embarrassing about mensturation.

She also explained that she had to see each person totally undressed before they could put on the suit. This is because it was vital to prove that no one was having a period nor wearing underwear. Even white paties were bad because they might have gray elistic in the waistband or a tag with colored thread.

The worst part was the suits. The ones for one of the temples had wide flare legs that sometimes ballooned and flapped on the skinny girls, allowing occasional glimpses up to the waist.

The suits turned to a tissue paper translucence when wet. This was bad for on of the twelve-year-olds who already had a dark abundant growth of pubic hair. I was so embarrassed about the leg of my suit flapping open that I couldn't feel sorry for her.

After we were done, we had to again strip in front of an old lady who told us to drop our suit in a bucket before she would hand over a towel.

That was the day I decided not to marry in the temple because it might be even worse than doing dead baptisms.

I remember the temple workers saying this to our group before we went in to the temple "If any of you are unworthy to be here raise your hands now because it would be better for you to be humiliated now than to face damnation for going through the Lords house unworthy to do so" Then I remember someone else telling us that the temple workers can see if someone is unworthy or not. HOLY SHIT was I scared! I don't remember the ceremony freaking me out though. I had been brainwashed into thinking that it was perfectly normal to be baptized for dead people. I even looked for dead people while I was in the temple because I had heard so many stories from the pulpit that people were visited by the spirits of the dead in the temple. I never saw any.

I have never been that comfortable around water. Yeah I took swimming classes, but I've always had bad dreams about being drowned, falling of buildings, etc. So we get to the temple and I'm going to be held under the water by some guy how many times? After a while I really fought it. I could see the frustration and fatigue in his face when my turn was finally over.

For the guilt. The temple worker told us that "when you go to the temple you learn more about the secrets of God" "One of those secrets is that eating chocolate is as bad for you as drinking coffee" Somebody asked about cocoa. "Hot chocolate is bad too" "If you're going to live the word of wisdom you can't eat chocolate or drink hot cocoa."

Liberal paraphrasing involved in my post but the spirit of it is 100% accurate.

I do remember being mortified. I was a pretty shy kid as a teen and never really dated much. Definitely didn't date any girls from my ward. So, I'm sitting in my jumpsuit on that bench around the font hoping I don't suddenly "get wood" -- because those damn jumpsuits don't leave much to the imagination if you're anything but flaccid (trust me on this one, ladies).

Wouldn't you know it, just as it's my turn to go up, I'm sporting distended trou (can't remember if I was absent-mindedly admiring the girls or if it was just a breeze that had blown by... I WAS a teenager, you know). This is no small embarrassment either -- shy I was, but though I didn't know it at the time I was pretty well endowed (pardon the pun) and thus any time my hormones kicked in I couldn't stand up without the world knowing in great detail what was going through my head.

So here I am, the shy quiet kid who most of the Mutual never even bothered to talk to, walking up to the font like frigging Quasimodo, fists clenched determinedly in front of my zipper, hoping that the water would be cold so that when I got my hands on the guy's arm my problem would be over. Of course, the water was not only warm, it was HOT -- bathwater hot! And, naturally, the jumpsuit immediately began floating and letting the water flood up to my nethers. BOING! If that weren't bad enough, the hot water made me feel like I was going to turn the font water yellow.

100 names later (yes, 100!), I'm exhausted, spitting hyperchlorinated font water, and half-drowned. But Mr. Happy is still perked and anxious. Now, of course, my jumpsuit -- now weighing about three times what it did before due to the soaking it got -- is revealing all. I about killed myself jumping from the stairs to the towel pile and trudged, totally mortified, to the locker room and the safety of my locker stall.

Fortunately, my "issues" were over with by the time I got to the confirmations. Thus, I was able to concentrate on the task at hand. Unfortunately, I couldn't understand a word of the confirmations because the guy doing them was going as fast as that FedEx commercial guy in the '80s. You know, something like this:

"Brother Tragic, havibleghaurifhlythedidekeflhoob eyelaghflhiebemthifirmoo fircheesericeplatterpaints forrinhalfuh... JUAN DE LA CRUZ GONZALEZ... whuzzdedinameathersonnolygostamin."

...all the while slapping his hands on my head like I was a bongo drum.

Ooohhh, yeah. That's pretty fetchin' sacred and special, all right.

I felt like I was on an assembly line in Detroit.

My frist few times when i went in i had my dad doing the dunkings (we've both now left) and him dunking me was okay...he wasnt drowning me, but i went once when my dad didnt go with us and i had some other guy dunking me, and he kept going so fast, he was already starting the prayer as i was surfacing...i had to tell him to stop for a moment so i could catch my breath and clear my eyes and let my nose get drained. Needless to say i got some 'hairy eyeballs' from the bretheren observing and from the man checking off the names. After i did that, the young women after me didnt want to go in.