Walking on the school fields aged seven, I firmly clamped my mouth shut.
As I approached the group of older girls I ducked my head down to further hide my identity. But it was too late. I'd already caught the eye of ten-year-old Lorna, the pretty, freckled ringleader, and as I walked past, she led the jeering. 'Morning, Bugs Bunny!' 'Hey there, Goofy!'
Tears stung my eyes as I hastened to my classroom, escaping this familiar onslaught.
I thought of this distinctly unhappy memory - and the many others like it - following the recent furore over the brilliantly talented White Lotus actor Aimee Lou Wood's teeth.
Because during my childhood I was relentlessly teased about my own large, gappy and sticking-out front teeth. The sting still lingers. In spite of years of braces - first in my teens, then in my 30s - I am still reluctant to smile for the camera.
In the 1980s, there wasn't the daft expectation that everyone should have identikit pearly whites. So 31-year-old Aimee’s refusal to get her own front teeth ‘fixed’, and her honesty and beauty, is refreshing.
But while many have praised her, last weekend a cruel parody on the US show Saturday Night Live saw the actor playing Aimee wearing large fake teeth and making a joke about not knowing what fluoride is.
In response, Aimee branded the skit 'mean and unfunny'. 'I have big gap teeth, not bad teeth,' she said on Instagram.
My own tribulations started aged six when my family moved from Leicester to Felixstowe. My little sisters and I joined the local primary school where one group of older girls took against me. Children can be cruel and they always pinpoint the one thing that makes you - literally in my case - stick out.
So from six until nine, when we moved again to the Lake District, I vividly recall being called Bugs and Goofy, with people making carrot-munching noises.
Six seems pretty young to start loathing your appearance but I became very self-conscious. I remember crying in the school loo when comments were particularly barbed. Once, as I tried to scurry past her, Lorna pushed me over, causing me to graze my knee.
After we moved north, there were still comments, but far less so. I remained hyper conscious about my teeth, though.
Even though I'd become less of a target, the fear of being different and laughed at had been instilled at such a young age that it stayed with me throughout my childhood and teens. When I finally got braces, aged 13, I was overjoyed, welcoming the dull ache as my vast (in my mind) front teeth were gradually pulled straight and I could finally - as I thought - 'fit in'. To me then, the thought of keeping my sticky-out teeth was unthinkable. I was desperate for them to be like everyone else's.
So when my braces were removed three years later, I felt I'd finally found my confidence and launched into an enthusiastic social life (my schoolwork certainly suffered according to my reports).
However, teeth always shift, and because we weren't given retainers in the early 90s, mine gradually twisted inwards. In my late 30s - a time when I was perfectly confident with my appearance, or so I thought - I had a meeting with a group of Americans in Harvey Nicks.
As I gazed at their uniformly straight teeth, I felt the old insecurities again. I remember covering my mouth to conceal what I thought were my wonky teeth and I ended up paying for new braces shortly afterwards.
While none of my adult friends or colleagues would ever have teased me or, I suspect, even noticed my teeth, my fear was clearly still there.
Now, aged 52, I am still reluctant to show my teeth in pictures, even though I rarely think about them beyond daily cleaning and flossing. But every now and again I have a nightmare about them sticking out again and remember how exposed and upset I felt.
I'm far from the only person driven to change my appearance over childhood bullying; indeed, I recall my mum saying that one of my classmates, dubbed Big Ears, had an operation to pin them back because the teasing upset him so much.
So while the furore around Aimee's teeth will die down, I hope the message that nobody should be ridiculed for their appearance is a lasting one.
And hopefully, other little girls with sticky-out teeth won't be teased and feel compelled to 'correct' them as I did.