Eat half your weight in grams of protein a day. Eat protein every 90 minutes. Eat protein to lose weight. Eat protein to build muscle. Eat protein to stay full. Pack it in. Count grams.
Here, have a beef stick. Here, eat some cottage cheese. Here, HAVE A COW.
(Vegetarians, y’all are screwed.)
You can tell people have completely lost their everloving minds because protein is now showing up places it doesn’t belong: in brownies, poptarts, iced coffee, pretzels, water — WATER!
(So, vegetarians, maybe you aren’t screwed after all?)
Whatever happened to — I don’t know — just eating food?
Meat is meat. An apple is an apple. Cake is cake. The end.
I’ve run the calculations, and even as a meat-eating human, most days I’m not even close to getting my current recommended amount of protein. To do so, I’d either have to overeat, or forgo other beloved staples like rice and bread, veggies, and ice cream — and y’all know I’m not about to give up my ice cream.
But weirder than putting protein where it doesn’t belong is the messaging. No matter the food fad — low-fat, atkins, keto, paleo, juice, 100-mile, etc — it’s always the same: “Food is salvation.”
But we all know that’s not true, right? I mean, we all know that drinking an ice-cold Coke isn’t going to transform us into scantily-clad, sexy beach babes, and yet somehow protein in our coffee is going to turn us into the best version of ourselves?
Oh, come now.
And there’s another thing that bothers me: the idea that I must have — that I need —more. Millions of people live well with simple diets — beans and rice, ugali and greens, injera and lentils, dal and roti, hummus and pita. To say we need more protein strikes me as presumptuous or entitled. Maybe even elitist.
If anything, what we probably need is less — less Doritos, with or without the extra protein.
Sure, protein is important, and some people absolutely need protein-enhanced foods. Medically speaking, protein smoothies, granola bars and water can be lifesavers.
(Awhile back when I was fussing about yet another raging fad, my younger son pointed out that fads have benefits: a heightened focus on anything — be it a new diet or a social movement — allows for advancements. When the pendulum inevitably swings the other way, it leaves behind the benefits of deeper understanding and expanded world views.)
So once this current craze blows over, people who really do need protein-boosted foods are going to have so many great options.
But for the rest of us? Soon most people will (once again) be like, Yeah, protein is good — in moderation.
our traditional non-protein-enhanced Sunday supper
When being chased, Lieberman explained, foxes try all sorts of things to escape, but the hedgehog just curls into a ball. Meaning: the fox sees complexity and the hedgehog fits everything into one big (often simple) idea. So when it comes to fad diets, hedgehogs are the ones with the one-plan-fixes-all mentality, while foxes seek the nuance and complexity.
Lieberman’s plea (as I heard it): be foxy.
P.P.S. I almost forgot! I have a great protein bar to recommend! (Because I am nothing if not riddled with inconsistencies.) It’s called The Perfect Bar. My daughter made me try one and they are sooooo good. Like a cross between homemade peanut butter honey balls and the inside of a Reeces cup, but way better than both. Super dense, no weird flavors or textures, with a satisfying chew. Sometimes, we like to cut a bar into tiny cubes to eat with our morning coffee; this way, a single bar lasts several days. They’re on sale at Costco now, I think. In the refrigerator section with all the cheeses. Cost is about a dollar a bar. (Similar on Amazon.)
This week, my husband and I experienced a first: we moved a child into college. (Which is kinda funny, considering all our kids have had varying levels of higher education, and he’s our fourth.)
We did all the things: stopped at Walmart enroute to purchase last minute accouterments (fan, drying rack, flip-flops, trash can), stressed over directions, asked directions, got checked in, used one of the giant hampers on wheels to haul all his stuff in, and struck up random conversations with other parents.
His room is on the first floor of one of the dozens of Hogwarty-type dorms. His dorm is co-ed, a blend of first-year students, transfer students, and a living learning community (that he’s part of).
When we got to his room, we discovered his roommate motionless on the top bunk. When my son greeted him, the guy just grunted. At first, I thought he was just rude, but then when he sat up, rumbled, disoriented, and vacant-eyed, I thought he might be sick. He assured me he wasn’t, but he still seemed confused. He left to shower then, and when he came back, he was a different person: super polite, cheerful, and helpful. And then I realized he’d just been sound asleep, poor kid!
While my husband moved the car to a new parking lot, I helped my son wash out his drawers and closet, advised him on how to arrange furniture, and watched him string twinkle lights. Then I sat on a chair in front of the window fans and tossed encouragements his way.
By the time we were done, the tiny room was actually kinda cute. (I’m pretty sure it looks the best it’s gonna look for the whole rest of the year.)
Famished, we hit up one of the dining halls.
It was $17/person for all-you-can-eat, so we hung out for a bit, people watching and encouraging our son to eat more, more, more. (His meal plan is limited, so he’s gonna have to learn to eat strategically and with gusto.)
Over the last couple days, we’ve been peppering him with last-minute wisdom nuggets:
Keep your meds out of sight.
Study in the library.
Get a haircut.
Figure out the bus system and transportation for getting home.
Don’t get sucked into all-night video game marathons unless you’ve time budgeted for them.
Regarding homework, front-load your semester.
Research scholarships for next year.
Socially speaking, capitalize on the first two weeks when everyone’s most open to meeting people.
Walk the campus to figure out where your classes are held.
Work really, really hard.
We said our farewells, and then our son went one way, and my husband and I headed the other, back across the drill field where guns were being waved about and a marching band was tootling.
My husband needed a nap, so we sat down under a tree and that’s when I felt something on my ankle. When I looked down, I saw a giant caterpillar affixed to my shoe.
I have never kicked off a shoe so fast in my life, and I didn’t re-enter my body for a good five minutes.
P.S. No, I’m not sad that he’s off at school. (I went through that when he left for his summer internship.) Mostly, I’m just super excited about all the crazy wonderful opportunities he has at his fingertips. I’m pretty sure he’s gonna love it.
