In her famous poem “Wild Geese,” Mary Oliver wrote, “You only have to let the soft animal of your body / love what it loves.” Did she predict I would sustain myself on Cherry Twist Alani? Did she know I’d spend 12 bucks a pack on my pretty girl cigarettes (light blue American Spirits, in case anyone was wondering)? I am hedonistic to a fault; the soft animal of my body will absolutely get whatever it wants. I think little of my health, as long as the scale doesn’t go up.Â
Unfortunately, that way of thinking is common, albeit messed-up, and runs rampant through the minds of young women. We were all too young for the heroin-chic craze of the ’90s, but its memory persists…. and everyone knows, if we don’t learn from our history, we’re doomed to repeat it.Â
Starbucks has always pulled stupid moves. Remember when they were putting olive oil in your drink? I was too scared to order it, but I’m praying that everyone who did has recovered. Recently, they introduced a line of protein beverages– lattes and matchas with 20 extra grams of protein. Which would be nice, maybe, if anyone, ever, has purchased a Starbucks latte with the intention of fulfilling their protein goal for the day. Even our very own Bagels & Co on University has a Protein Power bagel.Â
We don’t actually need these extra grams of protein– it’s possible to hit your goals eating whole foods like lean meats, fish, eggs, dairy, etc– but companies know they can profit off a group that might not typically purchase a Starbucks drink, or a bagel, but might want a ‘high-protein’ version of the same item.Â
I believe that consumers gravitate towards health goals that are trendy or ‘easier’ to achieve, rather than what they may actually need. Experts say that the average American doesn’t even need protein supplements; we tend to get enough already. But, according to Harvard Health, most Americans get less than half of their suggested fiber intake. Too much protein can cause kidney strain and dehydration, while too little fiber can lead to digestive issues. Together, it’s a perfect storm for constipation and bloating.Â
But our obsession with it reveals something deeper than simple nutritional misunderstanding. We are less concerned with health as a holistic state and more concerned with health as branding. Purchasing the high protein matcha tells us you’re tracking macros, you’re lifting, you are optimizing yourself. It doesn’t say whether you sleep eight hours, manage your stress, eat enough vegetables, or have a healthy relationship with food.Â
Unfortunately, getting your protein is much more alluring than getting your fiber. Our generation has aestheticized health, from the pink pilates princess to the lean gym girl. Protein fits that aesthetic. It builds visible muscle, implies discipline and signals that you are working on yourself. Fiber, on the other hand, implies oatmeal, boredom. It implies digestion. It’s invisible and unsexy. No one is posting a TikTok about their daily psyllium husk ritual.
Additionally, protein is measurable. In an American culture that worships productivity, even our bodies can be reduced to spreadsheets. Getting your fiber, hydrating and managing your mental health are slow, unglamorous processes. They don’t provide the same dopamine hit as logging another 25 grams in MyFitnessPal. And if it makes us feel good, capitalism can take advantage of it. We just let them get away with slapping ’20g protein’ on a cup, shamelessly allowing consumers to indulge while maintaining the illusion of discipline. The drink is still sweet, but now it makes us feel better about drinking it. Perhaps even… morally better?Â
The irony is that true health is profoundly unmarketable. You’ve got to have consistency, a balanced meal, a boring sleep cycle. Move enough, drink enough water. Eat the regular bagel and don’t spiral about it.Â
But that’s not enough; we want to look healthy, healthier, even, than everyone else. We want proof, aesthetic evidence. Counting protein grams feels easier than confronting why we equate thinness with moral virtue. The waifish fashion aesthetic of heroin chic highlighted extreme thinness as beauty, and is now widely regarded as pretty bad, actually, for women’s health and body image. But is the image we promote today of ‘health’ as a thin woman who takes five supplements a day actually healthy? I’d argue that it obviously presents itself as so, in order to reduce backlash, but is not actually. It’s just another way to convince women they can achieve the ideal underweight form healthily.Â
Many of us don’t actually care about our health in the long term; binge drinking, smoking and missing sleep are extremely common for college students. As long as our bodies stay thin and we can keep pretending to care about our health every time we buy a protein shake, we can ignore the reality of our choices. I’m all for letting the soft animal of our bodies love what it loves, but … I wonder if it will catch up to us.Â