I was on the hunt for a decent, healthy meal replacement — and I thought I had it figured out. But then ChatGPT chimed in with a suggestion: “Try Jimmy Joy!” So I thought, why not? First impressions? The packaging looks like it was designed by a hyperactive cartoonist on a sugar high — playful, to say the least. The price was a bit lower than competitors, which, in hindsight, might have been a red flag. I went all in: ordered every shake flavor to find “the one” and grabbed two packs of their new bars — Cookies & Cream and Brownie. Bold move. Regretful outcome. The bars? Honestly, I have no idea what to do with them now. They taste like someone tried to reverse-engineer the concept of “dessert” in a lab — and got lost somewhere between protein powder and plastic. Chemical city. The shakes? Well, here’s the twist — no matter how much or how little powder I use, they always taste… watery. Like someone whispered the word “flavor” into a jug of oat milk and called it a meal. The texture is strangely dispersed — it never feels like you’re drinking something made from real, wholesome ingredients. More like sipping on a well-blended list of good intentions. I do appreciate the effort behind the formula — it’s clear they tried. But at the end of the day, I’d like my food to feel a little more like nutrition and a little less like a science experiment. Maybe it works for some people — students during finals week or astronauts short on options. But for me? It’s a pass. A joyful one.