Denise Snodell: Self-Loathing Virus is making us sick

I am the polar opposite of a doorknob licker, so I must have inhaled a stealthy micro-droplet. Whatever caused this latest illness, it was beyond my control.

You will be spared the gory details. Let’s just say a typical chest cold/temporary Bea Arthur voice somehow shape-shifted into days of a NASA-worthy airsickness simulator.

Five, four, three, two, one… Germ Cop was down.

Not familiar with my antiseptic alter-ego? Cue the Clark Kent music, Here’s the shtick:

Beneath my mild-mannered exterior is an invisibly caped-and-spandexed, seriously agitated super hero. I am Germ Cop. Worshipper of the Purell bottle. Elbower-outer of all public restrooms. Triple washer of triple-washed salad. I keep an eye on things and am blessed/cursed with an extra sensory perception of where evil pathogens lurk.

The story. Despite my legendary ninja microbe-dodging talents, I awakened one morning feeling TOR-CON Level 10 Off-Kilter. Minutes after chugging down cranberry juice (a colossal mistake), I zombie walked back to bed. I spent five days in full smack-down mode, with a directionally challenged esophagus, no appetite, gallons of gravity-defying water and a bedroom TV I had failed to hook up to the new digital converter. (Where did I put that box?)

With the exception of my spousal sidekick, Super Immuno Man, dizziness, weakness and fear of contaminating others left me isolated. My iPhone weighed 78 pounds. Yet I needed to hear human voices to stay tethered to the world. I defaulted to background noise supplied by non-digital daytime offerings of the three or four networks.

Most of the time I didn’t care, but when I resurfaced for air, the TV situation almost drowned out the immunity wars raging beneath my skin. The entire experience can best be summarized as agony wrapped in misery surrounded by suspicious “you go girl” talk show chatter.

Though I was mostly in a fog, it took no effort to zero in on what is wrong with society, via the messages emanating from the screen. Just about every gal-targeted talk-show host or guest would say, in the same breath, things like, “Look, you’re beautiful no matter what size you are and hey check out Starletta McCelebritygal — let’s see how long it takes her to shed that post-baby weight heh heh heh.”

I was battered with “hate your body” messaging from programming and commercials while I was weak and miserable. How dare the world? All I wanted was to feel normal, to effortlessly propel myself across a room and eat a sandwich. To actually want a sandwich. I dreamed of doing anything without feeling I was looping around on the Disney teacup ride. Simple activities were beyond reach.

But my perspective was heightened. Being encouraged to fret obsessively over defined biceps and hair highlights? What a stupid waste of time.

Here’s what’s important: To be able to function at your personal best level. To support, love and enjoy time with fellow humans. To have an appetite.

Yet with the TV on I witnessed a horrible, insidious epidemic: The constant reinforcement of self-loathing mostly targeted to females. Ambush makeovers. Shapewear. The “wrong” styles. “Problem areas” from head to toe. Tanning beds. Liposuction. Facial injections. Female show guests were told first and foremost how sexy/gorgeous/ageless they looked. Job One was appearance evaluations. Not as much focus on “You are smart.” “You are funny.” “You are important to humanity.”

The one exception was The Ellen DeGeneres Show. She’s more about kindness and laughter and dancing and deadpan humor/logic — finding pockets of joy in this crazy world. There was a ray of hope.

But overall, while knocked down with one illness, Germ Cop stumbled upon another. The Self-Loathing Virus. It must be stopped. How about being grateful for every gift we’re born with? And simply taking care of ourselves as best we can?

Germ Cop’s work is far from done. There’s a growing nemesis in town. It’s gripping the female mind and must be conquered.

I’ll do my part to fight this. But first, I see a Dagwood sandwich with my name on it.

This story was originally published April 20, 2015 at 1:50 PM with the headline "Denise Snodell: Self-Loathing Virus is making us sick."