I have been asked that many times and often I say, “I have no clue.”

But now, with this challenge, one I have thought over the last three days, I have come up with a small montage of who/what I would be. See, I like choices. If one doesn’t work out, I have alternatives to work from.

Let’s see:

A Butterfly. They evolve like a mystery, and become a thing of colored beauty. They harm no one and fly where they will. They are comforting, peaceful, and graceful.

FDR: Franklin Delano Roosevelt. I often wondered what it would be like in his shoes when he made the announcement that, “December 7, 1941, is a day that will live in infamy.” Immense pressure under daunting times. And on top of that, his daily struggles with Polio, at a time when there was no cure. Would I, could I, face such challenges so daring as he did, and still manage to come out on top. Could I have done what he did at a time when this country needed a strong leader and pull us out of a Depression? Hard questions, but he did that. I would like to say I could as well, but times today are far different from then.

A Scribe: This is rather a thought I have had for years, but to be a scribe during the years of Christ, and follow him, record his words and deeds. For me, that would be fulfilling. And I would want to ask Christ just one question: Did you know what would happen when you were a child?

My Mother: Strange perhaps, to want to be a woman, but she had an indomitable spirit, gumption and drive. She never saw any obstacle she couldn’t get past and she worked hard all her life. From the coal mines in Western, PA., to a riveter during WWII, to being a waitress for 35 years, as well as raising me (which was never an easy thing for her).

She instilled motivation, logic and drive in me, and my father, of which, if she hadn’t, he would have never lasted 40 years working for one company. She was tough but she had heart.

The only other person I would want to be is ... me. I have had my share of ups and downs. Quit school at 16. Entered the Marines at 17, saw a war, traveled the world, and the states here, fell in and out of love too many times to count but was really in love-love, twice. The second one, I married. As time moved on, she died and I went through some changes, but we all do, don’t we? My life has seen me as a teacher, a Chef, a salesman, and now, a hopeful writer. Retired and enjoying life. Yes, I’ll just be me. No one else has the memories I do.

"Always be yourself - unless you can be Batman. Then always be Batman."

Sorry, this just triggered my auto geek response - but yes, metaphorically speaking, we should always be Batman.

- Dedicated

- Strong

- Not a killer / shooter

- Deductive

- Rich

- Handsome

- Selfless

- Surrounded by friends / copycats

- Constantly facing our inner demons, even scary clowns

I had this doll when I was a kid named Jaslene. She was a Bratz doll who was Hispanic (at least in my head) with long brown hair, sparkling hazel eyes, who was thin with a B-cup chest and could stand just fine in heels. I loved her. I wished all the time that if I woke up different, I would look like her. To be fair, I didn't like looking like me. From the time Iw as a kid, I didn't want to look like me anymore. I didn't want to be black with short nappy hair and common brown eyes. I didn't want to be short and chubby with a big chest. I wanted to be like the women I admired as a kid.

If I had woken up anyone else, I would've wanted to be Hispanic or Indian or maybe Chinese. I loved their hair. Every person I knew who wasn't black had super long hair. Sometimes it was wavy. Other times it was straight and down to the back of their knees, and I wanted that badly. I would get excited when I was watching America's Next Top Model because all of the Latina/Hispanic and Asian girls looked so pretty after the makeovers. I loved their eyes too. Even when they were dark like mine, the camera always made them shine. The girls were all tall and thin and even the "big" girls looked amazing.

If I wake up tomorrow and am anyone else, I will freak out. Even if a genie heard my wish ten to fifteen years after the fact and made me what I had wanted as a kid, I wouldn't be me anymore. Though I didn't look like how I wanted, I had to learn to love who I am and how I was born. I look like my dad. I have my mom's nose. I mirror the generations before me and I've learned to be proud of that. It's something I plan to teach whatever children I adopt.

Though if I could wake up as anyone else, I'd want to be Gabby Douglas or Simone Biles because come on now. Looks aside, I will never be able to do gymnastics like that, and I want one day to be able to do a backflip without falling on my face.

For the most part, the female body was made for one job: childbirth. It's why our hips our wide, our chests aren't flat, and why once a month things aren't so ideal. Biologically we are not made to be the attacker, the defender, the muscly, bacon bringer.

My body was made to be a mother which is why I hate it. I don't want children and so these parts of me have become my weaknesses.

There is not just one person I would become if I had the choice. I would become a mixture of people, the ideal human.

As a teenager, I would exercise every day or nearly so. I was desperate to have visible muscles and it made my youthful temper boil to know that no matter what I did my barely ever moving brother would still be stronger than me. In my head, I associated strength with masculinity.

I cut my waist-length hair into a pixie cut. I threw my dresses out of my closet and replaced them with more shorts and button-ups. Anything pink, frilly, anything feminine had to go.

People told me that women could be anyone. They said we could be doctors or lawyers or actors and yet when discussing reproduction they did not even wave past the idea that some people may not want to have biological children.

I won't use this as an opportunity to rant about the school system or give a feminist lecture.

If I could be anyone in the world, I would take my female name and face and past it onto a body that bypassed reproductive parts for practical features, testosterone, muscles, a flat chest. If you're being generous I wouldn't say no to a nicer face too.

I don't think I am the only girl that feels this way but I'm curious to hear about your views. Do men hate their bodies for such weaknesses? Do they ever feel a need to reject masculinity to prove themselves? Or not prove themselves but become a stronger person in the eye of society and your own mind.

I know there are surgeries that I could take to reduce this feeling of bearing a body not made for my purposes but if you overlook the fact that I'm a broke college kid with parents who aren't exactly progressive, it seems overkill somehow. Every woman has to live like this, is this strive to reduce my weaknesses a weakness in itself? And how could I explain something like breast removal surgery to future partners or family?

"Oh, you're wondering why I did this. Yeah, they were just annoying me."

I think I am ranting now. I've kind of wanted to get this off my chest, pun not intended.

If I had a choice, I would have the ideal body, made to be strong, made to endure, made to be the head of the household without judgment. I would combine the best parts of being female and being male.

The sad part is there's not much about being female, that I would want to keep.

Who else can take up my space?

If I were to be someone else, who would live my insane life?

Who would turn the faucet on and off precisely twelve times to make sure it’s not running?

Who would spend twenty minutes in child’s pose on my yoga mat, hoping to cure what ails me?

Who would curse the gods during quarantine, only to realize I’ve achieved spiritual growth during this time?

Who would be here to do sun salutations to embrace those gods I’ve only just started to believe in?

Who would go to church to pray to these same gods and bring my life story, share my own individual gratitude?

Being someone else would be like an erasure of my identity as me.

No one else has my same prayers.

If one day I get up as someone else, some random guy or short girl, a black aunty or a old grandpa. It doesn't matter who I become.

I just wanna get out of this hell.

This suffering body.

This constant struggle.

It would be my dream come true, if I had a chance to be someone else.

I've worked too hard to align my morals, educate myself, and earn my reputation, no matter how small. My privilege, my peers, and any opportunities that have crossed my path are not unique to me, but they are valuable. And if you listen to the people you envied or the people you pitied, the people who you think would or wouldn't be worth becoming, you'd be surprised how much you can understand different shoes without lacing them up yourself. The grass is always greener or whatever, but how do you remind yourself to appreciate that you have grass at all? Would I gamble what I am now for a chance to experience a different life?

No. I can't guarantee that the next person I become has the same determination and integrity that I taught and trained into myself. I'm already an asshole, the least I can do is keep it contained and under control. I wouldn't risk trading my chaotic neutral for someone who could do worse damage.

But if it wasn't so random? I already have my top 3 choices, in order.

No I would not choose to, but this is interesting so I'm going to pick someone anyway. If I could be anyone I would be J. R. R. Tolkien. He is one of the greatest authors and made lord of the rings. I thought about Peter Jackson, the director of the film, but I rather create the story. Peter Jackson is a close second.

i admire and look up to many great people: Beethoven, Louis Armstring, John Steinbeck, Kurt Vonnegut, Itzhak Rabin, David Attenborough...stop! this is not about who i admire! it's about who i'd want to be...

well...hard.

I have a friend. known him for years. he is probably the most positive person I know. he is gifted in almost everything. he is handsom, and not shy about it. he is happily married.

but strangely what is so inspiring about him is he appreciates things.

i remember working beside him once. very late , and we had to finish a presentation. we ordered sandwiches. oddly he ordered mineral water instead of the vital ,crucial fix of sugar and caffein that i was sure he also needed.

i asked him, when were esting, why didn't he order a soda or even a beer.

he gave me such a beautiful explanation, not why my choice was bad, but why water at that time, was so pure and cool and goes down your throat so perfectly. i wish i took notes. i have seen him drinking other things. but the way "sold" that water. was just amazing , and i completely regretted getting the coke. i think he has an underlying talent, to appreciate things more deeply than i could ever do. it allows him to take choices that will seem trifle to me, but ultimately would be the better ones. this talent, allows him to break down complicated tasks , and succeed and excell in all that he does. he is kind and sensitive for other people, and feels empathy perhaps in a deeper way. thst is who i would want to be, if just for a while..