The fat kid bully on the schoolbus was the only one to ever taunt me. I don't know when it started, and it didn't last very long, but he called me "Mole Monster". When nothing else was going on in the bus, he would simply chant in a low & drawn out fashion, "Mooooooole Moooooooonnnnssssssstttttteeerrrrrrrrrrr...."
I was born with a birthmark on my left cheek; all that's left now is narrow vertical scar. They removed it in the doctor's office when I was 14 while I held a towel to the side of my face to catch the blood. It was dark brown, raised, and hairy. Not one of those cute moles. It made me outrageously self-conscious, and what made it worse was my mother praying over it and dabbing it with vitamin E so it would go away. Sure that's a beauty mark, Mom. That's why you're begging Jesus to take it away. I feel so pretty.
The bully eventually pissed me off. I don't remember what I said to him-- something equivalent to "Fuck off", but in little kid language, and he was on the verge of kicking my ass when my brother stepped in. I was surprised and grateful that he stood up for me. Now that he's 33 and knows bigger words, he calls himself a pacifist. That's probably the closest he's ever been to getting in a fight. He told me on the ride home to never do that again. I didn't make any promises.