That Which Haunts You Makes You Stronger

It was 8th grade and not my most attractive year. I was short, awkward, and pale. I was wearing a C-cup bra and weighed around 90 pounds - but no one else in my grade had boobs yet so everyone treated me like shit. I didn't know how to dress myself, but refused to let my stepmom set out my clothes. Braces adorned my top and bottom teeth. I had to wear headgear at night. I played the French Horn. God, I was an ugly duckling.
And I was in love with a boy named Jon who played the saxophone.
Jon knew I had a crush on him and thought I was repulsive. We went to summer band camp together where they hosted an uncomfortable dance night. I danced with him and remembered that my skin felt like it was on fire.
On Valentine's Day, 4 months before I would leave Texas and start a new life in Pennsylvania, the school had a rose sale. You could give roses to your crush or friends (yellow = friends, pink = crush, red = love, white = secret admirer). I was an office assistant at the time and got to run around the store delivering these adorable roses to happy students.
When I was in band class, an office assistant came in and pulled me aside and gave me a beautiful white rose. I couldn't believe it, I felt so special. It had a note attached to it:
 You are so ugly.
I was in shock. Jon and his best friend were snickering over at me from one corner of the band hall. My eyes welled up with tears, but I held onto them until I left class.
And every time someone in my life gets engaged and it's still not me, this memory flashes to the forefront of my mind. I wish it wouldn't.
Jon's now gay, and he's ugly as fuck.