Written by Deniz Kaya
This year, I went crazy and bought sardines. I hate sardines and I hate canned fish. But they are high in protein and omega-3. I stopped eating sugar, I tried. I heard it gives you more energy, better skin and improved health. But I was just unhappy.
This is not just a list of things I hate, but rather an intervention for the internet. Because I was convinced that a little suffering is what wellness looks like now. Can we stop promoting wellness like this?
You would not believe how many times I scrolled and saw a woman with a taped mouth and a red light mask asking me if I wanted to get ready with her. The Global Wellness Institute says the wellness economy has doubled since 2013. That means the money spent on things like nutrition, fitness, supplements, and beauty has grown massively. That is more than tech and tourism. But let me tell you how this is ruining my life.
Before all this, counting calories and measuring my protein intake was such a distant concept and my relationship with food wasn’t strained. I used to work out because I wanted to feel strong and healthy, my only goal was to be able to carry my own luggage when I was travelling. I wasn’t aiming for a perfect body, but being exposed to a great variety of content about how to look prettier overall shifted my idea of wellbeing. From something realistic to not so achievable.
I was carried away by the waves of beauty essentials and eye creams in the sea of content creators. It looked harmless. I thought I would look prettier and healthier, as I do with every new product I buy. Not long after, I came to the shocking realisation that I just look the way I look regardless of what I use. No serum you put on your skin can change your genetics, unless of course you inject something. When did we become this obsessed with anti-aging and the grams of protein in our meals?
I have noticed that we like to watch the lives of people we cannot relate to or imitate, though that does not stop us from trying. In Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, which organizes human needs from basic survival to safety, belonging, esteem, and finally self-actualization, health and wellbeing used to be a basic need but with the rise of longevity and preventive health it has turned into a form of self-actualization.
First came the ALO workout sets, “clean girls” and smoothies with ingredients I cannot pronounce. Then the exclusive gym classes, cold plunges, lymphatic massages and a three minute video on whether you should use creatine or not. Now, the big jump from workout sets to workout classes that you can attend by invitation only tells me one thing: health has become a luxury in this day and age.
People from every economic background are trying to catch up with the newest anti-aging treatments and join a pilates class that costs an arm and a leg. Health is supposed to be achievable, not a subscription service. It used to mean going for a run, or at least stepping outside without tracking it, eating something that grew out of the ground, and maybe even enjoying your life while doing it. So yes, you can eat that sweet treat without adding protein powder to it, and have that second glass of wine.
I am ashamed to admit that I also calculate my protein. I am near hysteria because I am aware that it is exhausting and yet, I cannot seem to stop because I need to be in control of what I eat at all times. Not because it is inherently wrong, but because it turns something as simple as eating into a task. I don’t want my life to be measured out in grams and goals. I want it to move, to be lived, not constantly optimized. And yet here I am, doing the math.
I believe the world right now doesn’t leave much space for relief and mindfulness. Everyday, we are exposed to negative content, scrolling into new sources of anxiety. So I do not blame people for searching for stability and peace, but rather judge the internet for creating the unrealistic ideal that waking up, taking seven supplements, and adding protein powder to every meal is normal.
Somewhere along the way, taking care of ourselves stopped being about feeling good and started being about doing everything right. There was always something else to fix. Maybe the problem isn’t that I bought sardines. It’s that I felt like I had to.