Dear Protein Bar, It’s Not Me...

Dear Protein Bar,

We’ve been through a lot.
Early mornings, rushed commutes, long hikes, post-gym desperation… you were always there. In my bag. In my glove compartment. In my pantry—living rent-free.

But if I’m being honest? I never actually looked forward to you.

You promised so much. Glowing labels. “20g of protein!” shouted in bold letters, like a love note written in marker. “Low sugar,” you whispered, hiding your sugar alcohols behind a wall of natural-sounding lies.

I kept eating you anyway.
Because you were supposed to be good for me.
Because you were supposed to help me hit my macros.
Because you were supposed to be healthy.

But here’s the thing:
I don’t want to choke down a bar. I want to enjoy it.
I want to look forward to the snack I’m eating.
I want to feel good after I eat it—not bloated, confused, or mildly betrayed.

So I took a step back.
And realized… protein is important. It is.
But I’m already getting protein throughout the day—from real meals, real food. Chicken, eggs, nuts, lentils, Greek yogurt, even oats.
So why am I forcing extra powder into my snacks—especially when it makes them taste like flavored drywall?

You turned every bite into a chore.
And honestly? I deserve better.

I deserve something made with real, whole ingredients.
Something that gives me natural protein without wrecking the flavor.
Something that fuels my day without faking it.

So yeah... we’re done.

I’ve moved on—to something colder. Fresher. Realer.
It lives in the fridge. It respects my taste buds.
And it doesn’t try to be a bodybuilder in bar form.

Love,
Someone Who Finally Read the Label