My wimple itched something fierce, and my

My wimple itched something fierce, and my sensible nun shoes actually gave me horrific blisters I had to pop every night and cover with yards of gauze.

But it was the pimple under my wimple that gave me the most trouble. It was big, red, painful & full of pus. So when Father Eckert placed his hand on my head for a blessing, I

cried out for the blessed virgin. Fr. Eckert thinking I was possessed pressed firmly & the zit popped. Pus oozed down my temples. I fainted & my rosary became tangled in my hosiery

causing a run in the shape of baby Jesus' manger.By the time awoke, Fr. Eckert had tweeted a picture & the church was overrun with people wanting to see the "stigmata" on my nylons

. "Get away from me!! Fr. Eckert, help me!!" He had me lifted up and placed above the organ right in front so people could stare. I'll never recover from the "stigmata" trama of

Having my pride cut out of me like someone just scooped some butter out with a spoon. I mean, how Fr. Eckert even get such an idea. He hardly could think two steps ahead let alone

come up with such an elaborate plan. The embarrassment was overwhelming. I could feel the heat rush to my face while the crowds laughed on. "Shut up!" I shouted, but they only

laughed harder at my abasement. Tears streaming down my face, I ripped my clothes off. "Gaze upon the extent of my shame!" I yelled. They fell silent, no doubt at the sight of my

Why did I always have to blurt things out? I couldn't have kept it to myself? No filter, that was always my problem. I'd blown it. So much for playing it cool. Oh the shame!