The internet made me obsessed with protein

Drew Gooden

This video has been trending in United States, Australia, Canada, Papua New Guinea, United Kingdom, Austria, and Germany

The video opens with the creator describing how every feed, from TikTok to YouTube Shorts, suddenly revolved around protein. Clips of shredded influencers sipping shakes and recipes for “anabolic” French toast or protein coffee kept appearing, convincing the average viewer that meeting daily goals of 150 g—or even 200 g—was the new gold standard. The narrator admits falling into the trap: downloading macro-tracking apps, buying giant tubs of whey, and feeling guilty whenever a meal wasn’t explicitly “high-protein.” Social-media algorithms, the video argues, reward sensational health claims, so protein became the nutrient of the moment.

To explain why this happened, the creator charts the rise of the protein economy. Bodybuilding forums of the early 2000s, CrossFit’s popularity, and the keto and paleo movements primed consumers to equate protein with leanness and discipline. Supplement companies saw an opening, pumping out powders, bars, and fortified cereals while paying influencers for discount-code shout-outs. Even mainstream grocery items—pasta, ice cream, bread—were rebranded as “pro” versions. Industry sales soared past $20 billion a year, and the internet’s micro-celebrities amplified the message for free merchandise and commission.

Midway through, registered dietitians and exercise scientists step in to add context. They clarify that the official Recommended Dietary Allowance is just 0.8 grams per kilogram of body weight for most adults, rising modestly for strength or endurance athletes. Western diets already exceed those numbers, making true protein deficiency extremely rare. Studies show that once basic needs are met, extra scoops of whey don’t magically convert to more muscle; surplus amino acids are simply oxidized or stored as fat. The video also notes that very high intakes can tax kidneys in people with preexisting disease, though healthy individuals are generally safe at moderate surpluses.

Common myths fall next. The much-hyped 30-minute “anabolic window” after a workout turns out to be a several-hour period in which any balanced meal works fine. Plant proteins aren’t inherently inferior; combining grains and legumes over the course of a day easily supplies all essential amino acids. Collagen doesn’t build biceps, and single-study headlines are often funded by the companies selling the powdered solution. Viewers watch side-by-side cost analyses showing lentils, eggs, Greek yogurt, and canned fish outclassing designer shakes on both price and nutrient density.

The closing minutes focus on reclaiming balance. Instead of chasing arbitrary gram targets or letting apps dictate every bite, the creator now eats varied whole foods, keeps protein in perspective, and unfollows accounts that monetize fear. Their takeaway: the internet made them obsessed with protein, but evidence—and a less curated algorithm—brought them back to a sustainable diet where protein plays an important role without eclipsing fruits, vegetables, healthy fats, and, occasionally, dessert.

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