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Wellness crazes come and go, but protein is forever. At least that’s how it feels as the algorithm subjects me to the latest protein-related wellness trend: a video of a gym bro whipping up a piping hot plate of boy kibble.
Boy kibble is not complicated. According to influencers and trend pieces alike, it’s a humble meal of ground beef and white rice. Yes, that’s it. The beef provides fat and protein, while the white rice provides carbs. Eaten day in and day out, boy kibble is meant to be utilitarian, affordable, easy to meal-prep, and most importantly, it’s high in protein. Upon further research, boy kibble seems to be a variant of the slop bowl — mushy, often disturbingly vomit-like meals that are protein-rich but not exactly appetizing to look at.
Every boy kibble recipe is accompanied by a breakdown of calories and macros, with protein ranging anywhere from 30g to over 80g per serving. And while it might seem odd that off-putting bowls of brown have the internet in a chokehold, you could draw a straight line from boy kibble to other wellness products like Huel, Soylent, David bars, and the protein Pop-Tarts in my cupboard. Because while fats are polarizing and carbs are reviled, protein is the favored macronutrient of the wellness Wild West.
Why is protein so popular? As with any wellness trend (or grift), there’s a kernel of scientific truth. Protein helps with satiety, keeping you feeling fuller longer. It’s essential to building and repairing muscle, as well as maintaining other tissues like skin, bone, nails, and hair. It helps regulate hormones, supports your immune system by creating antibodies, and transports oxygen. There’s a reason it’s often referred to as the body’s essential building block.
Healthcare providers also often advise prioritizing protein to address several health concerns. For example, if you’re trying to lose weight, a dietician might tell you to increase protein and fiber because they take longer to digest. Prediabetics and diabetics are often told to pair carbs with protein (and fiber-rich veggies or healthy fats) to blunt glucose spikes. People on GLP-1 medications are likewise advised to be mindful of protein intake to prevent excessive muscle loss.
The wellness grift isn’t in denying these truths — it’s twisting them toward optimizing protein for maximum health benefits. Or, as the influencers call it, proteinmaxxing. Gym rats have always been fanatic about protein, but the cultural milieu of the past few years has helped proteinmaxxing reach a wider audience. More people are taking GLP-1 medications. Ultra-skinny physiques are once again in fashion. Among younger generations, concepts like looksmaxxing (see: this Clavicular dude) have made people willing to do whatever it takes to be conventionally attractive. Most importantly, social media has given influencers huge platforms to spread the proteinmaxxing gospel.
The biggest sin while proteinmaxxing is forgetting that other macronutrients and micronutrients exist.
Oftentimes, there’s little direct harm. But over time, when the algorithm spams people with influencer after influencer saying, “Do this for optimal health” or “This is the easiest, fastest way to achieve a goal,” you end up with people making slop bowls with 90 grams of protein and some fitness influencers advocating people eat upwards of 200 grams of protein daily. The jury is out on whether eating that much protein confers actual benefits. One study found there’s no upper limit on how much protein can be absorbed. Other experts say that the body can only process 20g to 40g at a single time. You can, however, eat too much protein (though it’s uncommon). Protein overconsumption is linked to kidney stones, increased liver fat, or heightened cardiovascular risk, depending on the protein source.
The biggest sin while proteinmaxxing is forgetting that other macronutrients and micronutrients exist. Many boy kibble and slop bowl videos, for instance, will go ham on eggs, Greek yogurt, and beef, but skimp on vegetables and fruits.
Earlier this year, the government released new dietary guidelines that nearly doubled the recommended protein intake for Americans, from roughly 54g for a 150-pound person to about 100g — with about half coming from animal sources. RFK Jr, our current health secretary, made the announcement while declaring he’s “ending the war on protein.”
For the record, the so-called “war on protein” is fictional. Not only is protein deficiency rare in developed countries, but experts say many Americans already meet the new dietary guidelines for protein. There is no need for the “dramatic increases” RFK Jr. has suggested, given that consumption levels are at an all-time high. A Cargill survey found that 61 percent of Americans upped their protein intake in 2024, compared to 48 percent in 2019.
The slope from proteinmaxxing to protein washing is a slippery one. It’s how you get from swapping regular spaghetti for chickpea or lentil pasta, to a Dunkin’ Donuts campaign called “Dunk N’ Pump” featuring Megan Thee Stallion jazzercising while sipping the brand’s new “protein refreshers.”
On a recent trip to my local Target, it was hard to escape the barrage of protein products. I found no less than four brands of protein breakfast pastries — including those from the OG Pop-Tart brand. I found protein frozen pizzas, protein waffles, protein chips, and a bizarre protein butter coffee smoothie mix. In the frozen food aisle, there was a banner reading “hit your protein goals” above a case filled with banana bread, chocolate tarts, and chocolate cookies. Perhaps most obnoxious was finding a chocolate brownie batter protein powder mix showcase in the tampon aisle.
Protein washing is easy to fall for. The box of protein Uncrustables in my freezer is a testament to that. (Sue me, Uncrustables are an easy pre-workout snack. Though in this case, the protein boost comes from extra peanut butter, making them nigh impossible to eat without a beverage.) And on its own, the act of choosing a slightly better alternative is not a problem.
The danger comes when you evolve from “protein is healthy” to “more protein is always healthier” and end up at the false conclusion, “This protein Pop-Tart is a healthy snack.” A protein Pop-Tart is still a Pop-Tart. Adding milk protein concentrate to the pastry doesn’t change the fact that it’s an ultra-processed treat that should only be eaten occasionally.
But lately, it feels like proteinmaxxing and protein washing can lead to something I call protein paranoia. In a world where people have been told getting as much protein as possible is good, any news relating to protein products sparks intense fear, regardless of whether it’s warranted. A while back, influencers and gym rats were spooked by a Consumer Reports investigation regarding high levels of heavy metals in popular protein powders. Consumer Reports was right to call out the fact that supplements, like protein powders, are not regulated, but there’s nuance to that story. Toxicity is always in the dose, and Consumer Reports used a particularly stringent level in its testing, one based on California’s Proposition 65. Huel, for example, was one of the brands called out in the report. However, the brand stated its products still fell within the FDA’s and international guidelines.
Consumers are looking to know, “Do I need to worry that in my quest for gains, I consumed so much protein powder lead that I’m going to get cancer?” — and unfortunately, there is no answer for that. But there are SEO-bait explainers on how to find the protein powder with the least lead.
Similarly, the viral David bar also got into hot water recently. The protein bar became popular among proteinmaxxers thanks to its macros — just 150 calories, 28 grams of protein, 2g of fat, and zero grams of sugar. A New York Times profile called it a “protein Scud missile wrapped in gold foil.” However, a class action lawsuit now alleges the protein bar’s macros were too good to be true. It claims independent testing revealed that the bar actually has 80 percent more calories and 400 percent more fat than claimed. The news spurred memes calling back to Mean Girls, when antagonist Regina George was tricked into putting on pounds by eating fake weight-loss bars. Again, this story is more nuanced. David Protein has officially stated that the class action lawsuit fails to account for the fact that its products use EPG, a fat substitute that isn’t metabolized by the body but will show up in traditional bomb calorimetry tests.
There’s a worthy discussion to be had from the David bar debacle about how the FDA approaches nutrition labeling. But again, all consumers want to know is if they’ve been Regina George’d.
The wellness Wild West stokes anxiety, but at their core, people simply want to be healthier. They turn online to find information and are instead bombarded with wellness influencers jacking news cycles for engagement or misleading wellness marketing narratives. The influencers tell them that protein is the answer to their problems. The experts say, hold up — protein is great, but don’t forget about a whole, balanced diet and other macronutrients, micronutrients, and fiber! But the grifter playbook and social media algorithms rarely reward nuance. They do, however, reward “simple” solutions.
And that’s how we end up with a FYP dominated by fear-mongering reaction videos sparked by protein paranoia, trends like boy kibble, and the never-ending supply of protein-washed products lining grocery shelves.
Optimizing isn’t a crime. Who doesn’t want to be their best self? But the extent to which protein mythos seeps into general knowledge is alarming. Trends like proteinmaxxing do eventually end up filtered into health and fitness apps as digestible nutrition tips — nuance be damned. Brands like Garmin, Ladder, Oura, and Fitbit are all adding AI-powered nutrition coaching to their apps. One of them suggested that I aim for a protein goal of 150g a day. The new, beefed-up dietary guidelines say I should get 70g to 105g. I don’t even want to think about all the complicated equations I’ve seen hurled at me from influencers on my FYP.
The most radical take might just be that trying to eat better is good enough. And to, maybe, once in a while, take a step back and view wellness trends with a healthy dose of skepticism. If slop bowls and boy kibble appeal to you, by all means, have at it. Just, please, for the sake of your colon, remember to throw in a vegetable, too.
Photography by Victoria Song / The Verge