From a children’s book to a new protein paradigm

The house is not in good shape. The walls are cracked. The rooms feel neglected. Something is off, even if it is not immediately clear what. Then, slowly, it begins to change. Pipes are repaired and begin to resemble blood vessels. The kitchen comes back to life, introducing nutrition and the gut microbiome. In the bedroom, sleep becomes something more than rest. Upstairs, dusty boxes in the attic open into memory, learning, and curiosity. By the end, the house is thriving again.

House of Life, a new illustrated children’s book by Anita Broellochs and Gabriel Gonzalez, takes a simple metaphor and turns it into something more ambitious: an early framework for understanding how the body works, and why it matters long before anything goes wrong.

“The book is built around the idea of the body as a house, where each ‘room’ represents a different part of health,” Broellochs says. “The goal is to give kids an intuitive understanding of how daily habits shape long term wellbeing.”

It is not simply a story. It is a response to a gap. “Most of us only start thinking seriously about our health when something goes wrong,” she says. “When energy drops. When sleep breaks down. When a diagnosis forces us to rethink everything.”

At the same time, the science has moved in the opposite direction. “Adults are tracking biomarkers, optimizing sleep, building workout routines, and rethinking nutrition,” she says. “But none of this has been translated into something children can actually understand.”

That disconnect sits at the center of the project. “Children form their habits early,” she says. “The way they think about food, movement, rest, and their body starts long before anything feels ‘wrong.’”

House of Life is designed to meet that moment earlier. Not with instruction, but with familiarity. By the time the final page is turned, the house is not just repaired, it is understood. “A reminder that our bodies, just like our homes, need care in every room, not just when something breaks.”

It is a long-view approach to health. One that begins with awareness, builds through habit, and reduces the need for intervention later.

That same philosophy runs through Broellochs’ work at Myospan. Trained as a bioprocess engineer and shaped by years working across food, health, and longevity, Broellochs is now turning that lens on one of nutrition’s most familiar ingredients. At Myospan, the company she founded, the goal is not to increase protein intake, but to rethink what protein is actually doing in the body.

“At Myospan, we’re developing a new class of protein designed to preserve muscle mass as we age by focusing on amino acid signaling rather than total grams,” she says. “Right now, we’re working on early product formulations, testing how they fit into real daily routines, and building toward a platform that can more precisely support muscle health across different life stages.”

The shift is not immediately visible, but it runs deep. For decades, protein has been reduced to a number. Grams per serving. Daily targets. Intake thresholds. It is a system that works for labeling and marketing, but less so for physiology. “At Myospan, we’re rethinking what protein is supposed to do,” she says.

The problem, as she sees it, is not a lack of protein. It is a lack of precision. “Most products focus on total grams, but the body actually responds to specific amino acid signals,” she says. “We design proteins that send a stronger signal to maintain muscle, especially in situations where that signaling becomes less effective, like aging or reduced appetite.”

The distinction reshapes the category. “So, in simple terms, we’re not just giving people more protein, we’re making protein actually work.”

The rise of high-protein products has defined the past decade in food. It has driven reformulation, new product launches, and a shift in consumer awareness.

But it has also, in Broellochs’ view, simplified the conversation too far.

“Not quite, but we should be,” she says when asked whether the industry has moved beyond the “high protein” message. “High protein was a useful shift, but it’s still a very blunt way of thinking.”

The limitation lies in how the body interprets what it receives. “The body doesn’t respond to grams, it responds to signals,” she says. “And especially as we age, you can eat a lot of protein and still not get the effect you’re looking for.”

What follows is a more precise framing of the next phase. “The next step is moving from more protein to more effective protein.”

Effectiveness, in this context, is tied directly to outcome. “When I say effective protein, I mean protein that actually leads to the outcome people care about, which is maintaining or building muscle,” she says.

That outcome depends on more than intake. “What matters is how the body responds, which depends on things like the amino acid composition, especially signals like leucine, how digestible the protein is, and how your body responds to it at that moment.”

The implication is difficult to communicate on-pack, but critical to understand. “So two meals with the same grams of protein can have very different effects,” she says. “Effective protein is about getting more of that response from what you eat.”

The industry’s reliance on grams, she suggests, was never wrong. It was simply incomplete. “I think the grams number was a helpful simplification, but we’ve probably leaned on it too heavily,” she says. “It’s easy to measure and easy to communicate, but it doesn’t capture how the body actually responds.”

That gap is becoming more visible as eating patterns shift. “GLP-1s reduce appetite, so people are eating less overall,” she says. “That means fewer opportunities to get enough protein throughout the day.”

The result is not just reduced intake, but increased pressure on each meal. “In that context, protein has to do more in smaller portions,” she says. “It’s not just about hitting a daily number anymore, it’s about making sure each meal actually triggers the response needed to maintain muscle.”

This is where efficiency becomes critical. “When volume goes down, quality becomes the main lever,” she says. “If someone is eating less, there’s less room for inefficient protein.”

The framing shifts accordingly. “The question shifts from how much protein is this to how much is this actually doing.”

That shift creates new opportunities, particularly for alternative proteins. “Yes, I think they are a real opportunity,” she says. “GLP-1s are changing how people eat, smaller portions, fewer meals, and often less protein overall. That creates a need for foods that deliver more in less volume.”

Unlike traditional protein sources, alternative formats can be engineered more precisely. “They can be designed more intentionally, whether that’s amino acid composition, digestibility, or how they fit into different formats,” she says.

That flexibility opens up a different direction for the category. “For a long time, the goal was to replicate animal protein as closely as possible,” she says. “That made sense as a starting point. But it also limits what’s possible.”

The next phase moves beyond replication. “Now we’re starting to see a shift toward designing proteins for specific outcomes, like supporting muscle, metabolic health, or recovery,” she says.

And with that, a different question begins to define development. “Instead of asking how close is this to animal protein, the question becomes what do we actually want this to do in the body?”

It is a transition that signals a broader change. “The first wave asked can we replace animal protein,” she says. “The next wave asks can we do better.”

That shift expands both the ambition and the scope of the category. “That opens up entirely new possibilities, designing proteins for longevity, recovery, metabolic health, or even specific life stages,” she says.

In that sense, protein stops being a substitute and becomes something more deliberate. “We’d be talking about proteins that are designed for specific biological effects, supported by real data.”

The language changes with it. “Not just high protein, but this supports muscle retention during weight loss or this improves recovery,” she says. “And ideally, those claims would be tied to measurable outcomes, not just marketing language.”

There is a clear through-line in Broellochs’ work. House of Life starts with a simple idea: that understanding the body early changes how it is cared for later. Myospan applies that same principle at a different scale, focusing on how specific signals shape long-term outcomes.

One operates through story. The other through formulation. Both begin with the same premise: that the way we think about the body determines how we treat it. And that change, whether it starts in a children’s book or a protein formulation, begins with asking a better question. “I think the conversation shifts from nutrition as input to nutrition as a tool,” she says.

Supporters can follow and back the House of Life campaign on Kickstarter as the project moves toward publication.