3. Fruit Stand (Real)

“This is the reason for this journey into hyperreality, in search of instances where the American imagination demands the real thing and, to attain it, must fabricate the absolute fake” (Eco, p. 8, 1990).

Fruit Stand
Fruit Stand

The real food movement has been dubbed an “ideology” by nutritionist Gyorgy Scrinis, because of its fixation with how food is produced: whole or unprocessed foods are trusted yet there is a disdain for anything processed.  Whilst the definition of what makes a food “real” is unclear, most sources favour traditional food habits (Scrinis, p. 20, 2013).  Relating to other health-food favorites such as “whole,” “natural” or from the “earth,” the real food movement sees food as something which cannot be modern, manufactured and certainly not plastic.

By comparing real and plastic fruit in my piece, not only could I question what it means to be “real,” but I also compare how the real food movement rejects certain foods in a similar way to how society rejects plastic. The middle of the 20th century saw plastics technology bring exciting new possibilities, just like food technologies: food could be broken apart, and re-molded into new, unfamiliar products. However, just as plastic soon became a “depressing symptom of mainstream culture” (Belasco, p. 38, 2007), ‘plastic food’ became a term for dangerous and unhealthy foods.

My piece was inspired by the dichotomy between how fake or artificial foods and blamed for causing disease, whereas real and natural foods are healthy. Some advocates believe so strongly in the health benefits of real-food that they reject the modern nutricentic approach to food, only eating foods that our ancestors would have eaten. The blog Kath Eats Real Food rejects nutritional science on these grounds, claiming that ‘real food’ is “the only diet that has stood the test of time” (Younger, 2015).

Nutritional science has also been attacked by food marketers. In 2004, Kettle Chips launched a marketing campaign for their crisps, with the slogan “no science, no fiction, just real.” Science here is not related to the ingredients or production of the product. Instead, it is used as a metaphor for anything chemical, plastic or dangerous.  Providing an additional reason for the attack on science, Ben Goldacre, author of the book and Guardian column Bad Science proposes that rejecting science can boost company profits, as they are able to market products as a “maverick alternative” without necessarily being healthy (Goldacre, 2004).

Why have real-foods stolen the limelight of food stardom? I’d certainly be interested to see what Kettle Chips could produce with a little “fiction.” 

This led me to explore the idea of “fake” foods being superior, or more realistic than their real equivalent. Margarine for example was designed to replace butter: “considered better- more real- than the merely real and original product” (Scrinis, p. 23, 2013). However because it is unnatural and processed, margarine is forbidden in the health-food world. I was inspired by the work of Italian philosopher Umberto Eco. His book Travels in Hyperreality plays with the concept of reality, stating examples where replicating “real” life can produce something that seems more real than reality itself.  For example Disneyland, Eco describes, is a “fantasy space more real than reality,” a place which can “give us more reality than nature can” (Eco, p.44, 1990).

Eco’s theory certainly offers an interesting perspective when looking at food: Is margarine the Disney-land alternative to butter? And might fake fruit look more real than the real fruit in a fruit shop?

To explore the concepts of fakery, reality and hyper-reality within food, I took a photograph of a range of fake fruits nestled amongst real fruit in a fruit shop, adding the label “real fruit” to the box.  Whilst taking the photos, other customers in the shop were unaware of the fake fruit, and the shop owner couldn’t tell the difference between the real and fake items. The difficulty in distinguishing between the items shows how unclear these boundaries are. Therefore this photo challenges what real food means and why marketing is so interested in promoting real foods.


Belasco WJ. 2007. Appetite for change: How the Counterculture took on the Food Industry. New York: Pantheon Books.

Eco U. 1990. Travels in Hyperreality. Florida: Mariner Books.

Goldacre B. 2004. “The not so posh kettle chips.” The Guardian. URL:

http://www.theguardian.com/science/2004/oct/21/badscience.foodtech. Accessed June 2015.

Scrinis, G. 2008. “On the Ideology of Nutritionism.” Gastronomica: The Journal of food and culture 8(1):pp 39-48.

Scrinis, G. 2013. Nutritionism: The Science and Politics of Dietary Advice. New York, NY: Columbia University Press.

Younger K. 2013. “The synergy of real food.” Kath eats real food. URL:http://www.katheats.com/. Accessed June 2015.


2. Still life with 5-A-Day (5-A-DAY)

“The clear message here is that the more fruit and vegetables you eat, the less likely you are to die at any age” (Oyebode et al. 2014).

Still life with 5-A-Day
Still life with 5-A-Day- Acrylic on canvas

Trying to get the population to eat more fruit and vegetables to reduce the burden of disease led to the launch of the 5-A-DAY campaign in 2003.  However, the National Diet and Nutrition Survey in 2014 revealed that only 30% of adults actually manage to eat their 5-A-DAY. Even more concerning is the fact that the 5-A-DAY campaign has little scientific founding: data from the European Prospective Investigation into Cancer and Nutrition (EPIC) study found that eating 5-A-Day had little effect on decreasing cancer risk (Oyebode et al, 2013). Yet the 5-A-DAY logo, with green blocks descending into glowing yellow heavens of health promises us that if we eat our 5-ADAY, we will be saved from the horrors of ill-health.  

I based my painting Still life with 5-A-Day on Cezanne’s Still life with Apples (Fig. 1), imagining what Cezanne might paint now if he were in a modern (albeit middle- class) kitchen. Apples have been replaced by snack bars, and oranges by smoothies: healthy-foods now have to be marketed and labelled, or a fashionable fad. To emphasize this marketing, I painted over printed labels of the brand names and stuck them onto my painting to make these items look as realistic as possible, in contrast to Cezanne’s expressive post-impressionist style. However, I chose a similar colour palate, and large brush strokes in the rest of the painting to make an obvious comparison to Cezanne’s work. This highlights a contrast to historical values of food: what do these new branded health-foods say about our attitudes to healthy eating?

And what does this mean for the future of the 5-A-DAY campaign?

Despite the fact that almost everyone knows about the 5-A-DAY campaign, the logo is seen less and less on a piece of fruit or a vegetable. Instead it resides on a few brands of dried fruit, juices, ready meals and even baked beans: these “healthy alternatives” are usually convenience foods and not healthy at all. It is hard to know why the logo is fading from view. However, its failure to improve consumers’ diets is likely to impact on the interest in marketers to adopt the logo.  This is exacerbated by the lack of clarity and consistency with marketing products as 5-A-DAY. Not many of us know what quantity of fruit or vegetables count as 1 of your 5 a day: are we meant to eat 12 or 14 cherries?

What about if they’re organic cherries from M&S?! 

Even the number ‘5’ behind the campaign is disputed. This number varies between 20 different countries: Denmark promotes 6-a-day, and Ireland just 4 and (Harcombe, 2012).  However in the UK, researchers have called for the 5-A-DAY to be raised to 7A-DAY (Oyebode et al, 2013), just like the number in Cezanne’s still life. By only including 5 items in my version of the painting, I show how the number behind 5-ADAY is a result of marketing; it holds little value in improving our health.

This painting also links my next piece, based on the word real. The proliferation of health-food brands has meant that foods are now edited, packaged and marketing; they are nothing like the “real” foods that are found in Cezanne’s still-life paintings.

Cezanne P. Still Life with Apples. 1890. The Hermitage, St. Petersberg. Source: WebMuseum, Paris [online].
Cezanne P. Still Life with Apples. 1890. The Hermitage, St. Petersberg. Source: WebMuseum, Paris [online].


Harcombe J. 2012. “Five a day: The truth. Diet, obesity, nutrition and big business.” So much, so wrong URL:http://www.zoeharcombe.com/2012/03/fiveadaythetruth/. Accessed July 2015.

Oyebode,O, GordonDseagu V, Walker A, S Mindell JS. 2014. “Fruit and vegetable consumption and all-cause, cancer and CVD mortality: analysis of Health Survey for England data.” J Epidemiol Community Health. doi:10.1136/jech-2013-203500.

1. Let food be thy medicine (Super-food)

“I am 100% sure it is possible at any age to change our destiny into one of pain-free, vibrant health by intelligently utilizing the power of super-foods” (Wolfe, p. 6, 2009).

Let food be thy medicine
Let food be thy medicine

In the climate of health today, nutritional science no longer needs to prevent nutritional deficiencies. Instead, it focusses on enhancing our bodies.  Food is not just fuel; it provides us with an opportunity for self-improvement. Food claims to be able to boost our brain power, bone density or immune function; it truly can make us super-human.  Super-foods exemplify this, often claiming that one bite of these miracle foods can eliminate disease. Health-food bloggers regularly extol the virtues of these foods, for example Deliciously Ella writes about how the algae chorella can “improve the symptoms of depression” and how goji berries aid the “prevention of

Alzheimer’s” (Woodward, 2015).  Even bolder claims than these come from author David Wolfe (2009), a man who describes himself as the “Indiana Jones of the superfoods and longevity universe.” With the “insurmountable problems of civilization,” Wolfe believes super-foods are the route to solving them, as they are “both a food and a medicine” (Wolfe p.7, 2009).

The medicinal power of food engages with a long history of culturally significance. The Israelites used wine to “treat infirmaries” (Fitzgerald, p.99, 2014) and the bible describes how bread can “strengthen man’s heart” (Psalm 104:15).  As the correspondence between our diet and health is expanding, Hippocrates’ famous quote: “Let food be thy medicine and medicine be thy food” is ever more pertinent, especially considering that foods are increasingly eaten for their ‘functional’ use, rather than their taste or cultural roots (Smith, 2004 p.328).

Super-foods are praised for their highly packed, nutrient-dense contents, often containing compounds such an anti-oxidants that protect against the diseases of modern life.  Sociologist Paul Atkinson equates their popularity to their exotic origins, as this provides them with “hidden wisdom, offering them a platform on which to reject modern western medicine” (Atkinson, p.12, 2009). Who could resist trying the natural healing powers of the African Baobab tree, Japanese Matcha powder or acai berries picked from the Amazon rainforest?

This, then is the basis for my photograph Let Food be thy Medicine, in which I compare super-foods to drugs in a pill-box. Whilst the therapeutic value of food should not be undermined, the super-food makes dubious claims, drawing consumers to believe in the power of a single, often expensive food: YouGov published research concluding that in 2011, 61% of people in the UK purchased foods they believed were superfoods, 11% believing they could prevent cancer (Shearman, 2014).  With this in mind, I framed my photograph with a different super-food in each segment of the pill box. I was keen to have a mixture of colours and textures of the super-foods to show how many food are now idealised as holding miracle powers over health. For example, the blueberry has been barraged by the media as an anti-oxidant powerhouse. Turmeric on the other hand is one of the super-foods has been used historically for its anti-inflammatory properties in Indian and Chinese medicine (Prasad and Aggarwal, 2011).


Atkinson P. 2009. “Eating Virtue.” In The Sociology of Food and Eating, ed. Murcott A, 9-18. London: Indiana University Press.

Fitzgerald M. Diet Cults. The Surprising Fallacy at the Core of Nutrition Fads and a Guide to Healthy Eating for the Rest of Us. New York: Pegasus Books, 2015.

Prasad S, Aggarwal BB. 2011. Turmeric, the Golden Spice: From Traditional Medicine to Modern Medicine. In: Benzie IFF, Wachtel-Galor S, ed. Herbal Medicine: Biomolecular and Clinical Aspects. 2nd edition. Boca Raton: CRC Press.

Shearman S. 2014. “Quinoa, chia seeds and kale: superfoods or supermarketing?” The Guardian.

URL:http://www.theguardian.com/medianetwork/medianetworkblog/2014/oct/02/quinoachiaseedskalesuperfoodsmarketing. Accessed Jan 2015.

Smith R. 2004. “Let food be thy medicine…” BMJ 328:0-g.

Wolfe D. 2009. Superfoods: The Food and Medicine of the Future. Berkeley; North Atlantic Books.

Woodward E. 2014. “About.” DeliciouslyElla. URL:http://deliciouslyella.com/?s=healthy+eating. Accessed June 2015.

The health-food crusade and the super-food saint

 “My philosophy about food is very simple. It is the only thing that can give us our health. Other things can take it away, such as drinking, smoking and a lazy lifestyle. But food is what makes us what we are” (Bee, 2015). 

As a consumer, observer, and cynic of health-foods, my philosophy about food is far from simple.  I like quinoa, prefer diet drinks and once thought Manuka honey might cure a cold. Yet I will happily demolish an entire tub of ice-cream and enjoy sneering at people who spend money on spirulina or flaxseed to add to their green juices.

Whilst it may seem strange to disapprove of people trying to improve their health (what could possibly be wrong with that?) the health-food industry makes me feel uneasy.  Health-foods offer more than just nutritional value; they are prized as a means to physical, spiritual and moral salvation.  Like the super-food saints who preach the benefits, we are promised that if we buy into the industry, we too will become more productive, more attractive, and happier.

Our rising health-consciousness is causing a growing discrepancy in health equality; the moral language of food is only for the saintly classes.

“I’ve got some spirulina in my cupboard”

This quote from my focus group is an example of how the health-food industry infiltrates our lives, and our kitchen cupboards. Coming from Brighton, it is hard to ignore it. There, you will find more vegan restaurants than fast-food outlets, and the yoga-loving, kale-eating population make it appealing to be part of their cult. But 40 years ago, advertising products as natural or wholesome would have only attracted the “radical vegetarians,” not the common consumer (Belasco, p.3, 2007). Today the health-food craze is transforming from the hipster hippies into the mainstream; health-foods are invading the high-street. The gluten-free aisle has expanded almost as fast as our national waist-line, and entire industries now produce green superfood drinks. The inflation of health-foods is also visible amongst those around me.  Many of my friends and colleagues have swapped regular milk for non-dairy substitutes, and are more likely to buy a Nakd snack bar than a mars bar. Logging onto social media, it is almost impossible to escape the barrage of Instagram snaps of healthy meals, gym selfies or #cleaneating tags. I’m starting to feel left behind.

Being healthy has become something to shout about. Those who used to be termed as health-food ‘junkies,’ ‘nuts,’ or ‘freaks’ are now heroes.  Many food-authors and bloggers have made careers from the online interest in healthy eating. Proposing often radical dietary change, these authors tell us their saintly stories, miracle ‘cures’ and righteous recipes to inspire us to turn our lives around and free ourselves from the burden of disease.  For those willing to convert, all you need is several £100s of kitchen equipment, exotic superfoods and buckets of free-time for yoga, juicing or exercise classes…Who’s in? Well, it would appear lots of us are; the success of these female foodies is astounding. Rising health-food star Deliciously Ella wrote the fastest ever debut cook-book to sell in the UK, winning almost half a million followers on Instagram (Woodward, 2014).

Although many of us are joining the health-crusade, the partition between the healthy and the unhealthy is significant. Despite our frenzied pursuit of health, we are in the midst of an obesity crisis. Being healthy is increasingly compulsory, where lifestyle marks entitlement to good health. Those who don’t appear to be trying hard enough are thought to deserve ill health. The modern food bloggers carelessly ignore this: as if everyone should have the desire, time and resources to convert to their better way of life.

Who am I to judge? Since I’m from a similar demographic to most of the health-food bloggers, and I like quinoa, perhaps I’m not convinced by their doctrine because I already have the resources to live a healthy lifestyle. But the more I have questioned this, the more I realised that it is because of our similarities that I am able to judge them: their ideals of perfect health are unrealistic even to the well-equipped of us. It’s not hard to imagine that for people from different backgrounds, cultures, or religions, the health-crusade flaunts itself as an exclusive club for the moral elite.

The land of soya milk and honey

The success of these bloggers is largely due to their invitation towards better times.  Shunning the horrors of modern life where people are stressed, over-worked and over-weight, these authors offer an escape to a promised land: back when life was simple, food was real and society was. Paleo-dieters are so keen to reject modernity that they are willing to return to the Stone-Age. Other health foodies admire the medieval period when humoral pathology focused on balance and connecting “mind and body.” To my dismay, an explanation of how the humors must be in balance recently appeared on the website of entrepreneur and blogger Primrose’s Kitchen (Matheson, 2015).  Raw-foodies revel in the 19th century, when Sylvester Graham (of the Graham cracker) proposed that eating “plainer and more natural food” was healthiest (Graham, p.136, 1849).  Similarly, the recent “clean eating” movement reflects an eagerness to escape from the modern threats of pollution, contamination and industry, whetting our appetites with an Eden of natural, fresh ingredients.

Whilst these food disciples make it seem easy to join their pilgrimage against modernity, most of us don’t have the means to escape. Only the middle class, the beautiful, the happy and the genetically blessed have a chance at health-food stardom. And those who don’t fit this mold, the “fat, flaccid and forlorn,” are judged as unhealthy and morally inferior (Metzl and Kirkland, p. 3, 2010).

Furthermore, I struggle to understand why everyone is so convinced that their way is the best. Making outlandish claims about health and diet without evidence is irresponsible, not honorable.  What’s more, after recent scandals in the health-food world, it’s hard to regain their trust: in 2015, Australian food Belle Gibson was caught lying about having terminal brain cancer, her would-have-been released book The Whole Pantry detailing her cure: a plant-based diet. “None of it’s true,” admitted Gibson (Nianias, 2015). Another fraudulent foodie recently in the press is founder and preacher of the alkaline diet Dr Robert Young, who has been charged with countless instances of fraud, and for practising medicine without authentic qualifications (Allyn, 2014).

Even though these cases of fraud are rare, the media and marketing impacts us every day, deceiving us into thinking that their products are healthier. But most of their advice should be taken with a pinch of salt (as long as it’s organic, pink, Himalayan rock salt). To fulfill our role as conscientious consumers, marketing presents us with ‘moral’ choices: foods are given labels such as organic, free-range, Fairtrade or farm fresh through which we can prove our goodness. But what do these words really mean? And how can we trust them? Even products branding themselves as ‘honest’ or ‘innocent’ make me suspicious.  But it is vital that we are suspicious. The persuasive rhetoric of health-food marketing exerts huge power over how we think.  Just look at chia seeds: good marketing is the only explanation I can find for how an essentially tasteless, texture-less grey seed has become the current must-have.

Marketing beauty: buy the glow

As well as food marketing, health foods promote themselves through ideals of beauty and goodness. The discourse of healthy eating not only talks about how certain foods make you feel, but how they make you look too. Whilst losing weight features heavily in this-–most bloggers write about weight-loss and their exercise routines– many of the authors have suffered from difficult relationships with food in the past.  Food author Madeline Shaw (2015) describes her conversion to clean eating after years of “depriving and binging.”  Now, she frames her diet around the principle that if we

“ditch the junk food” we can transform our bodies and give ourselves “glowing skin” (Shaw, p.4, 2015).  A staggering number of bloggers seem fixated by the effects of food on their skin. Books such as Amelia Freer’s Eat. Glow. Nourish (Freer, 2015), Angela Liddon’s Oh She Glows (Liddon, 2015), or Madeline Shaw’s Get the Glow (Shaw, 2015) all glisten under this premise. Just as Christ’s face “shone like the sun” during his transfiguration (Matthew 17:2), these food saints offer spiritual salvation.  Conveniently, many food bloggers also double as professional models or work for the beauty industry. Youtube vloggers such as Niomi Smart use their channels to simultaneously air beauty tutorials and healthy recipes (Smart, 2015).  Not a single food-blogger has dared reveal themselves on a bad hair day, or when stuffing their faces with goji berries. This angelic appearance has even extended to the food: the immaculate Instagram snaps ensure the food glows with goodness too. However in doing so, these food bloggers are demonstrating a level of narcissism I find hard to digest.

The price we pay for health

Even more concerning is the way in which our responsibility for health is a matter of class.  Healthism, the term placing health “at the level of the individual” is usually represented as a middle-class attribute (Crawford, p.365, 1980).  Health-foods, particularly super-foods, can afford to charge extortionate prices for their reputed benefits (a 110g pot of acai berry powder will set you back by £22.99).  I don’t blame these businesses for monopolizing on the consumer drive for health; their job is to make money, not to act as a public health service.  But it is the price of healthy foods in general which is upsetting. Ignoring the fancy health-foods, the price gap between healthy and less healthy products has been continually expanding over the past decade (Jones et al. 2014). As healthy foods become more and more expensive, a greater number of people will be excluded entry into the haven of health.

The health-food world seems oblivious of these price differences. Deliciously Ella’s trademark sweet potato brownies contain a range of expensive ingredients: Medjool dates, maple syrup and ground almonds; not on the weekly shopping list.  As well as isolating people who are not from well-off middle class backgrounds, the class division in the pursuit of health poses a more hidden threat.  Research suggests that amongst lower socioeconomic groups, the impact of healthism is greater. This is demonstrated by the higher prevalence of somatic symptoms in these groups. Disorders such as fibromyalgia and chronic fatigue syndrome are believed to be caused by similar political, ideological and medical forces as the healthism movement, but, unlike the pursuit of health, are not exclusive to the higher classes (Wessely and Greenhalgh, p. 203, 2004). Therefore, whilst many people from lower socioeconomic groups are excluded from eating a healthy diet, they still suffer from the burden of responsibility placed upon them.


The discourse of healthy eating is governed by moral imperatives in which the obligation to eat well is challenged by a lack of clarity and choice we have to achieve an optimally healthy diet.  Whilst we are becoming more health-conscious, health is becoming tied to ideals of beauty, social-class, and a perfect lifestyle.  Marketing plays a large role in the health-crusade by influencing consumers’ decisions. Yet it also creates confusion, and makes it hard for us to feel in control of what we eat.  The available health-information about food was described in my focus group as a “minefield.” This analogy extends to the entire health-food industry: the discourse of healthy eating is riddled with moral language promoting superior lifestyles exclusively available to the saintly classes.  If only this minefield were that easy to avoid.


Allyn R. 2014. “Controversial alternative health provider pleads not guilty to charges.” CBS8.URL:http://www.cbs8.com/story/24544235/accusedfakedoctorpleadsnotguiltytofelonycharges. Accessed July 2015

Bee S. 2015. “Good Nutrition.” Sally Bee Heart Healthy Food.. URL: http://www.sallybee.com/#!goodnutrition/c1hix. Accessed July 2015

Belasco WJ. 2007. Appetite for change: How the Counterculture took on the Food Industry. New York: Pantheon Books.

Crawford R. 1980. “Healthism and the medicalization of everyday life.” International Journal of Health Services 10(3):365-88.

Graham S. 1849. Lectures on the science of human life. London: Oxford University.

Greenhalgh T, Wessely S. 2004. “’Health for me’: a sociocultural analysis of healthism in the middle classes.” Br. Med Bull 69(1):197-213.

Freer A. 2015. Eat. Nourish. Glow: 10 easy steps for losing weight, looking younger and feeling healthier. London: Harper Collins Publishers.

Jones NRV, Conklin AI, Suhrcke M, Monsivais P. 2014 “The Growing Price Gap between More and Less Healthy Foods: Analysis of a Novel Longitudinal UK Dataset.” PLoS ONE 9(10). DOI:10.1371/journal.pone.0109343.

Liddon A. 2014. The Oh She Glows Cookbook. New York: Penguin.

Matheson P. 2015. “About Us.” Primrose’s Kitchen. URL:http://primroseskitchen.com/about-us. Accessed May 2015.

Metzl, J. M. and Kirkland, A. 2010. Against Health: How Health Became the New Morality. New York: New York University Press.

Nianias H. 2015. “Belle Gibson: The health food blogger admits she lied about having terminal brain cancer.” The Independent UK. URL:http://www.independent.co.uk/news/people/bellegibsonthehealthfoodbloggeradmitssheliedabouthavingterminalbraincancer10194764.html. Accessed May 2015.

Shaw M. 2015. Get The Glow: Delicious and Easy Recipes That Will Nourish You from the Inside Out. London: Orion.

Smart N. “Niomi Smart.” YouTube. URL:https://www.youtube.com/user/niomismart. Accessed June 2015

Woodward E. 2014. “About.” DeliciouslyElla. URL:http://deliciouslyella.com/?s=healthy+eating. Accessed June 2015.

Woodward E. 2015. “Sweet potato and carrot mash bowl.” DeliciouslyElla. URL:http://deliciouslyella.com/sweetpotato-carrot-mash-bowl/


Hello! And thank you for visiting my blog. For those of you who are interested in fad and flops of the health-food industry, or were simply curious about why I decided to baptise myself in coconut water this summer, hopefully all will be revealed. I decided to do this project as my final project during my Medical Humanities MSc last year in Manchester. I wanted to try and understand some of the social, cultural, political and historical factors which have informed the health-food industry today. Why is it that kale is so popular? Why is my Instagram feed full of people drinking green smoothies? And more importantly, why are we all so worried about our health? With the rise in health information available to us, particularly through online sources, it is hard to escape the pressure to join in. This project hopes to argue that health-food fads are really just a reflection of the socio-cultural ideas surrounding diet, morality and health: little of it really has much scientific basis. Furthermore, these fads can have damaging and dangerous connotations. Through a range of creative pieces, I hope to shed some light on what the health-food industry is making us believe.