Thanks for the excellent information and well-intentioned (but not very efficacious in my case, unfortunately) motivational speeches, Lazlo. You're some dude.
we are all so f**ked up in the head its not even funny.
I have been like this for as long as I can remember. Even before the bullying properly started (though I was silently ostracised, I suppose that's just a more subtle form of bullying), at age 9 or so, I would spend several minutes--foreshadowing hours--at a time watching myself in the mirror, keeping tabs on my weight (I was a bit tubby as a young kid) and covering the sides of my face with my hands to make it more "handsome" (back then I identified the problem as fat cheeks, but in hindsight it might have been a reaction to the close-set eyes).
I remember one particular time when I had lost some weight, and happily marched into my parents' room at night proclaiming my great conquest. Another time I wore a bandana, and it framed my prepubescent face quite nicely and made my then literally white (sometimes, being Nordic sucks) hair look pretty badass. These events brought me great surges of dopamine as I would continually ominously envision myself as growing up to become a fat, bald man.
Hence, it seems to be that my "transhandsomeism" (is that a thing? can I get the government to support my project?
) had already made itself known at a very tender age. The difference being that back then, it didn't permeate my every thought, and I could still do things unrelated to my obsession.
Once I became a little bit older and sexually mature, however, things predictably took a turn for the worse. There was nothing there for me, only mockery (primarily by girls, related to my ugliness) and beatings (primarily by guys, related to my academic achievement and probably also ugliness, or perhaps more aptly put, lack of masculine sexual dimorphism). Ever since, becoming good-looking has been my sole telluric goal. First I wanted to become a palaeontologist. Then I wanted to become... physically attractive.
I'm typing this after a long night of not sleeping at all, so please pardon inconsistencies and ramblings. Just thought that I should share my "backstory" with you lot, in case anyone is interested and/or can relate to my experiences. At the very least, perhaps this could explain to some why I am so adamant about really having this stuff done, although it is grossly atypical, kind of risky, and ludicrously expensive.
I do realise that most people would look at me as though I were from another planet if I told them that I would rather spend, say, $100.000 (don't quote me on that figure, I just made it up) on complex craniofacial surgery to move my eyes a few mm further apart than on a cool, expensive car, a great apartment, or whatever it is that appeals to people in general.
Hell, to be honest, I would rather have my ideal looks--which, again, do not primarily amount to some abstract x/10 but rather a set of proportions that I probabilistically should have inherited in the first place--and a chance to relive my lost youth than all the money in the world.
