The Problem with the High-Protein Mania: A Successful Advertisement Strategy Rebranded as Health

“Have we once more found ourselves toeing the line between obsession and consumption?”

We’ve moved on from counting calories and paying attention to skinny figure goals to another form of diet hyperattention, and it’s bulking. In the supermarket aisles, high-protein snacks stock the shelves. Protein meals fill up Tesco meal deal options, and a new craze of macronutrients begins. The success of protein advertisement goes beyond the gym-bro consumer, and it doesn’t take a genius to notice the shift in food marketing. A new body standard comes along with it, and a push for muscular bodies is framed as not only sexy, but physically necessary. What we see instead are kcals replaced by grams, once more combining healthy eating with numbers. In that case, have we once more found ourselves toeing the line between obsession and consumption?

Food firms, from dairy products to pre-packaged meals, have moved to flashing the double-digit protein content. In Holland and Barrett, a 12-pack of Grenade protein bars cost almost £35. Bubble tea at CUPP on Byres Road offers high-protein alternatives. Huel offers a protein-rich viscous drink that can be substituted for a whole meal. But why should being ‘healthy’ be so expensive? And why should it substitute our ways of eating? Not in the most appealing way, too, might I add.

The industry’s fun rebranding tells you that what you’re doing is a lifestyle choice that’s good for you. The promotion of bulky strength is not, by itself, toxic. There’s no problem if your desired standard of health is winning all your arm wrestles at the bar – because that’s cool. But when companies try to legitimise their mysterious 20g protein elixir with an unreasonable price tag, that’s when you should snap out of the protein mania. Too often, whey supplements are framed as necessary to reach your daily protein intake. If it tastes horrible, you can for sure rely on the over-worked coporate marketing team that it won’t look ugly. An unappetising pile of ground beef? Nah, let’s call it boy kibble. It becomes normalised to accept a singular 14g protein bar at the same price of Morrison’s 250g British beef mince. 2kg of protein powder can cost as much as £40 (for context, that’s equivalent to a London to Paris Eurostar Standard ticket). Now that’s a marketing success.

The mainstream thought of health has changed and with the rise of protein, the way of eating has changed with it. Consuming sludge doesn’t matter if the end goal is toned arms. Body standards follow along, too. Flat stomachs are out, and abs are in. In the 2000s, the ‘skinny bod’ and eating less were hot. I recall the paparazzi photos of celebs, such as Paris Hilton and Lindsay Lohan, that were known by every other girl my age. The ’90s model silhouette continued onto Disney Channel and by the peak girlhood age of 13, it was the only body that I saw praised. In Mean Girls (2004), even Regina George was not immune to dieting culture. The only beauty of this lack of eating, I realised, was its perseverance to not enjoy food – if it can even be called that.

It is no coincidence that this shift to an athletic body as an ideal look correlates with the protein enthusiasm. The obsession, veiled as health, can certainly go too far, with studies even arguing we’re consuming a surplus of protein. Although we may think protein has no limit, excess protein supplements are not as healthy as they seem, many of them containing high sugars.

What I mean to say is that it is not just an increasingly normalised, toxic relationship with protein-rich products that we are witnessing, but also the lurking corporate strategies that call the shots. Though we may flock to feta and cottage cheese and praise Lidl’s high protein yoghurt, the narrative of consumption resumes its process of reinventing beauty. Marketing teams push for ‘strong’ as the new body goals, instead of ‘slim’, dismissing intense bulking as mere bodily nourishment. A similar pursuit of weight-loss and glorified 2000s’ heroine chic once dominated the media, which was mistaken for healthy excellence and lifestyle discipline. There are unhealthy practices with eating, and it occurs when enjoyment and consumption become separate.

Whilst protein has become the new food advertisement, I am not condemning protein-variety or fitness. In fact, I think that the attention to protein has encouraged people to diversify their protein intake, moving towards plant-based alternatives, such as tofu and chickpeas. However, it must be remembered that these companies’ main priority is not the nutritional health of our bodies. There is something to be said about the newfound attention of keeping track of our consumption, in the similar way our calorie-tormented predecessors did. Protein has simply taken the spotlight as the current marketing ploy.