I live in a mental state.
Contrary to popular belief, not all mental states are in America (though some, such as Ohio, are). My particular mental state can be found in my head.
This would appear to imply that my head is not part of me, or that it's some sort of multi-dimensional unit. After all, I am in my mental state, and my mental state is in my head, which would place me firmly inside my head.
So, forgetting the multi-dimensional possibility for now (Occam's Razor, doncha know), we'll work with the idea that my head is not part of me. That leaves my torso, arms and legs being me.
I, as we've already established, am in my head. So, that's a torso, arms and legs occupying a cranium (Is it even fair to call it my head, now? It's not part of me, any more). How can one fit all that inside a skull? It must be either a really large container, or very small contents.
Records show that I'm six feet tall. Since the head is not part of me, that must be six feet to the top of the neck. That's certainly not very small contents, and I don't fold up much. It must, therefore, be a large container.
The majority of my senses are in the head - indeed, they all must be, as what use would it be to have senses on the torso which is confined inside the head? I see out of the (foot-wide) eyes, I smell with the (foot-and-a-half long) nose, and so forth.
Until yesterday, I lacked means of propulsion. My designers didn't consider the implications of encasing almost all my muscles inside a huge lump of bone. Sure, I could have the head flop around with its jaw, but the bruises I'd get! Ah, but a six foot head has its methods of persuasion. Now I have flight. Don't be surprised to see a six foot head flying over your town. Flying over your head.
Soon you'll all be in your own mental states. We mean you no harm.