If I was allowed to change one thing about my body, I wouldn't ask for sylph-like thighs or a slender, straight nose - or even for fewer chins than I have currently. Instead, I'd like a pair of wings. I can see that there might be a few issues with this transformation - they probably play havoc with the hang of a jacket, for example, and they might gain you more public attention than I'm wholly comfortable receiving - but I'm confident that the advantages would outweigh the downsides. Think of the fuel saving if you didn't have to get the car out when you just needed to pop to the shops. And how easy it would be to prune really tall shrubs in the garden. Not to mention the photographic opportunities - I could set up in business as a human drone!
The more I think about it, the sadder I am than I'll never be able to fly. And before you suggest it - no, I have no intention whatsoever of taking up skydiving. What I'd really like is the manoeuvrability and control of a hoverfly or a hairy-footed flower bee (or better yet, a dragonfly), so as to be able to choose my place in the world in three dimensions rather than two. This plumpie had been darting from flower to flower while I desperately tried to track him with the camera, but then by some wing trickery I don't pretend to understand, he simply stopped in mid-air, and hovered for a second while deciding which bloom to approach next. It's impressive enough that he can do this, but when I think about the fact that he wasn't taught these skills, but emerged from his nest cell with all the necessary knowledge pre-programmed into his tiny brain, I find that my own tiny brain can hardly cope with my amazement. Nature is wonderful, and fills me with delight.
Before I go, I'd like to say thank you for all the kind wishes I've received since testing positive for Covid. They're very much appreciated.