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My Instagram feed has recently become deeply concerned about which underwear I wear.
More specifically, it has become convinced that a surprising number of the challenges facing a 55-year-old man can be traced directly to the fabric composition of his undergarments. A company (aptly) called NADS appears with impressive regularity to inform me that bamboo fibers, airflow engineering, moisture management, and a variety of other textile innovations may hold the key to a happier, healthier, and apparently more (re-) productive future below the waistline.
Whether any of this is valid is almost beside the point. What I find to be fascinating is the underlying proposition.
The advertisement, and many others that I see with increasing regularity on IG and YouTube, is not really selling underwear. It is selling the possibility of optimization. It is appealing to something that seems increasingly common among health-conscious consumers, particularly those of us who have crossed the half-century mark...and would prefer not to acknowledge it. The promise is not simply comfort. The promise is better sleep. Better recovery. Greater longevity. More vitality. More energy. Perhaps a bit more athleticism. Perhaps a bit more, in my case, hair. And yes, if we're being completely honest, perhaps a bit more confidence that certain aspects of life are continuing to function as advertised.
In other words, it is tapping into a remarkably powerful idea: that somewhere amongst the countless decisions we make each day lies an opportunity to improve ourselves, however incrementally. We can eat a little better. Sleep a little better. Train a little smarter. Measure a few more biomarkers. Wear a different fabric. Take a different supplement. Optimize one more variable.
That, in essence, is biohacking.
The more consumers embrace this way of thinking, the harder it becomes to view biohacking as a separate category altogether. It is increasingly blending into the broader health ecosystem and landscape that pharmaceutical companies, healthcare providers, and patients all inhabit.
A few days ago, I was chatting with one of my closest friends, someone I regularly see in my Barry’s Bootcamp and SoulCycle circles, and our conversation drifted in a direction that now feels increasingly familiar.
She wanted to know whether she should be getting DEXA scans more regularly. Not because there was an obvious clinical problem, but because she was curious about what the scan might inform her about her body, her aging process, and the extent to which she was making progress in the ways she cared about. That, in a nutshell, is part of what people now mean when they talk about biohacking: the desire to measure, monitor, and optimize the body in ways that go beyond conventional medicine and move into the territory of performance, longevity, and self-improvement.
Twenty years ago, DEXA scanning would have sounded like a fairly odd topic to converse about before a spin class. Today, it feels almost mundane. More and more consumers are asking about their bodies with a level of granularity that used to be associated with elite athletes, highly engaged patients, or people already in the midst of a medical workup. They are tracking sleep, heart rate variability, glucose levels, body composition, recovery, and biological age, often with far more zeal than their physicians ever anticipated.
The shift is subtle, but it matters. Segments of the population, especially young people, are no longer waiting for an illness to show up to engage with their health. Increasingly, they are approaching health much more prospectively as something that can be measured, improved, and proactively managed.
What fascinates me about biohacking is not really the technology -- and there is so much technology to speak of -- it is the psychology.
Beneath the wearables, supplements, cold plunges, contrast therapy sessions, sleep trackers, continuous glucose monitors, and endless Huberman-esque podcasts about longevity sits a remarkably simple human desire: more than ever, people want agency.
They want to feel that they have some degree of influence over their future health. They want to believe that the choices they make today matter tomorrow. They want to participate actively in their health rather than simply waiting for something to go wrong. And in many ways, technology has arrived at exactly the right moment to satisfy that desire.
It wasn't long ago that most of us moved through life with relatively little visibility into what was happening inside our bodies. Today, consumers can monitor sleep quality, recovery, heart rate variability, glucose fluctuations, body composition, activity levels, and a growing assortment of biomarkers that were once largely confined to research labs and specialty clinics. Every morning, millions of people wake up and receive a score telling them how well they slept, how recovered they are, and whether they should push harder or take it easy.
There is something profoundly powerful and reassuring about that.
Even when the data are imperfect, and they often are, the act of measurement itself creates a sense of engagement. It creates the feeling that one is paying attention, participating, and perhaps gaining a small modicum of control over what has historically seemed uncontrollable.
What is particularly fascinating is how quickly these behaviors have spread beyond their original medical use cases. Continuous glucose monitors (CGMs) may be one of the best examples. Originally developed to help people with diabetes manage a serious medical condition, CGMs are increasingly being worn by healthy individuals who are simply curious about how their bodies respond to food, exercise, stress, or sleep. They are not treating a disease. They are pursuing insight.
There is also an undeniable social component to all of this. Health optimization has become a form of identity. People compare sleep scores, discuss recovery metrics, debate supplements, share workout data, and exchange recommendations about everything from protein intake to DEXA scans. What was once private health information increasingly becomes part of a broader conversation about self-improvement.
Some of these practices are firmly grounded in science. Others occupy a more speculative territory where the boundary between evidence, aspiration, and marketing becomes somewhat blurry. Yet consumers seem increasingly comfortable navigating that ambiguity because, at its core, biohacking is not really about technology. It is about the belief that there is always another lever to pull, another variable to optimize, and another avenue to try to become a slightly better version of oneself.
Whether that belief is always justified is an entirely separate question. But it is clearly becoming a powerful force in how people think about health.
For commercial teams and I&A professionals, I think biohacking deserves closer attention than it currently receives, not because every trend in this space will prove durable, but because it reflects a broader shift in how consumers are thinking about health.
One of the observations that has stayed with me from years of interviewing patients and caregivers is that consumers rarely organize their lives according to the categories we use in marketing and business planning. They do not wake up in the morning thinking about strict boundaries between prescription therapeutics, wellness products, nutrition, exercise, diagnostics, wearables, supplements, coaching programs, or digital health platforms. They simply think about improving their health.
As a result, now all of these interventions increasingly compete for attention within the same decision ecosystem.
A patient considering an weight-loss medication may also be wearing a continuous glucose monitor, tracking macronutrients, following a longevity-focused podcast, and experimenting with various nutritional strategies. Someone struggling with insomnia may evaluate a prescription therapy alongside wearables, supplements, sleep coaches, specialized mattresses, blue-light-blocking glasses, and whatever new solution has recently appeared in their social media feed.
From the consumer's perspective, these are not separate categories. They are simply different tools that promise progress toward the same objective.
The opportunity for pharmaceutical companies is that this trend may ultimately produce a more engaged customer. These consumers are often highly motivated, curious, and actively seeking information about their health. They are paying attention. They are measuring things. They are looking for ways to improve outcomes.
At the same time, there is also risk.
The same consumer who is willing to invest in understanding their health is often exposed to an extraordinary volume of information, not all of it accurate. Alongside evidence-based interventions sit countless products, services, influencers, and communities making claims that range from scientifically grounded to highly speculative. The challenge we now face in our industry is that they are no longer competing exclusively against other prescription therapies. Increasingly, they are competing against entire ecosystems of alternative solutions and belief systems.
Perhaps most interestingly, entirely new tribes are beginning to emerge. There are communities organized around longevity, metabolic health, sleep optimization, recovery, hormone management, and performance enhancement. These groups often have their own vocabulary, trusted sources, social norms, and ways of evaluating evidence. In many respects, they behave like psychographic segments that cut across traditional demographic and disease-state boundaries.
For an industry that has become increasingly focused on patient centricity, these communities are worth understanding - thoroughly and authentically. Not because they will replace medicine, but because they are helping shape how a growing number of consumers think about health, risk, prevention, aging, and personal responsibility. And as those mindsets continue to spread, they will increasingly influence the context in which healthcare decisions are made.
I suspect biohacking will continue to grow, particularly among consumers who have become accustomed to measuring, tracking, and optimizing nearly every aspect of their lives. Some of the products and practices currently attracting attention will undoubtedly prove durable. Others will quietly disappear, joining the long list of health trends that briefly captured our collective imagination before fading away. The underwear advertisements will eventually be replaced by something else.
What feels far less likely to disappear is the underlying psychology driving all of it.
At its core, biohacking reflects a desire for agency. People want to understand what is happening inside their bodies. They want to participate in their own health. They want visibility, feedback, and the feeling that they have some influence over how they age, perform, recover, and ultimately live. Technology has simply provided new tools through which that desire can express itself.
For pharma, this creates both opportunity and responsibility. The opportunity lies in serving a consumer who is more engaged, more curious, and often more motivated than ever before. The challenge is that these same consumers increasingly inhabit a world filled with competing information sources, optimization philosophies, health influencers, wellness communities, and products that range from rigorously evidence-based to highly speculative.
The question, then, is not whether biohacking will replace medicine. It won't.
The more interesting question is how medicine and pharmaceuticals will coexist alongside a generation of consumers who increasingly view themselves not simply as patients, but as active managers of their own health.
The companies that understand this shift earliest will be better positioned to understand the next generation of healthcare consumers. Increasingly, healthcare decisions are not being shaped solely in physicians' offices, clinics, or hospitals. They are being shaped in podcasts, online communities, fitness studios, social media feeds, wearable dashboards, and countless everyday conversations about how to live longer, perform better, and age more gracefully.
Or, occasionally, by an Instagram advertisement suggesting that the path to a healthier future begins with a different pair of underwear.
