So I downloaded an app with a catalogue of exercises, and I Googled and rifled through forums that told me I should be getting more protein in order to get the most out of my workouts, and did I know I could get it in powdered form? The justification went something like this: I’m a vegetarian, so it was already hard for me to get as much protein as those who eat meat, and when I’m working out, I must need even more protein than I would otherwise. So I started buying the stuff in bulk, mixing it into water or milk depending on whatever I had handy.

With time, the routine became second nature. I’d fish the measuring scoop out of the jar like a cereal-box prize, mix it with water or milk, and get on with my day. Every once in a while, a friend would catch me drinking from a blender bottle or notice the jar in my apartment and make a joke. Once, while carrying a fresh jar home from my P.O. box, I ran into an acquaintance who asked ironically if I was looking to get “swole.” These are small embarrassments I thought I’d learned to shrug off.

But I know why they joke. YouTube and Instagram are filled with photos and videos of impossibly giant men in small t-shirts weighing the pros and cons of whey vs. casein, or discussing the merits of isolate over hydrolysate. And the hypothetical viewers, ostensibly other men who want to reap all the hypothetical benefits of the powder, can be something of a punchline. In a famous gag from The Office, the character Dwight mocks his colleague for “cutting” his protein powder with water, asking him “Why don’t you just take estrogen?” He then swallows a dry spoonful of the stuff, and nearly chokes. I understand the stereotypes.

Most available protein powders seem to come in four- to five-pound black-colored tubs, embossed with sharp block lettering advertising “100% WHEY,” marketed by brands like Carnivor, Combat, and Serious Mass. Other, less aggressive brands show massive scoops of ice cream splashing into gravity-defying streams of milk, pods of vanilla adorning simple black backgrounds. Several flavors of “Pre-natal” protein powder in pouches decorated with images of Zenned-out women in caftans are also readily available on Amazon.

The brand I chose was as discreet as anything that comes in a four-pound jar can be. The tub comes wrapped in a simple white label with a crop of chocolate chunks floating in the center.

While protein supplements do not exist solely for men like Chad from The Bachelorette, the stereotype may have some staying power. A member of the women’s fitness Reddit, r/xxFitness, posted about the needling she experienced from people who found out she used protein powder to balance out her diet, and the unconscious need she felt to hide that fact from other people. “Whenever I've been ‘exposed’ in the past, I've had all kinds of responses,” she writes, “and it's never been positive.”