All-American Disappointment

Ah. Am I supposed to view my body as myself? As my vessel? As just an extension of my brain? When I look in the mirror that is not me, that is someone else who I take care of. She is secondary, and her back hurts, but she is not me. Is a body supposed to be a sheath to a sword. Is a body supposed to fit. I feel that I am a wild swing and uncontrolled sharpness. She wants and I give. Or she wants and I stop her from getting. This is not my body, it is an untrained animal I am dressing in clover. I have no sense of my own image. I just know she is supposed to be lovely so I make her as lovely as I can. Is this a body's purpose? Is my body supposed to be mine? Do I belong in here? What do I owe it? How do I look at this body and somehow be kind?