Let’s face it: life is stressful. Between the constant worrying, the sleepless nights, and the ever-looming dread of mortality, I’m pretty sure I’ve aged a solid 50 years in the past few months. So, when I heard about Bryan Johnson—a tech millionaire on a mission to reverse aging and reclaim the body of an 18-year-old—I was intrigued. Johnson, who calls himself the “most measured human,” has a team of doctors tracking every aspect of his health, crafting a meticulously scientific routine to cheat time. And guess what? He’s shared it with the world. Naturally, I decided to give it a shot. Could I, too, turn back the clock?
The prep: a vegan haul and a hefty price tag
My journey began with a shopping spree across three different stores, resulting in a fridge overflowing with fruits, veggies, and nuts—and a wallet £51.82 lighter. (Who knew a single fennel bulb could cost £5?) Johnson’s anti-aging lifestyle reportedly costs him $2 million a year, covering everything from gourmet vegan meals to cutting-edge medical treatments. Oh, and let’s not forget the more unconventional aspects of his routine, like injecting himself with his son’s blood plasma and zapping his penis with electric shocks. (Yeah, I skipped those parts. Call me old-fashioned, but I draw the line at vampirism and DIY electrotherapy.)
4:30 AM: the anti-aging grind begins
The alarm blared at 4:30 AM—a time that feels less like “morning” and more like a cruel joke. After a night of restless sleep (thanks, anxiety), I dragged myself out of bed, fueled by the thought of Bryan Johnson’s disturbingly youthful face. First up: pills. So many pills. Johnson’s regimen includes a mountain of supplements, which I dutifully swallowed while questioning all my life choices.
Breakfast was “Super Veggie,” a concoction of broccoli, cauliflower, and other greens that felt more like a punishment than a meal. (Who decided broccoli is a breakfast food? I demand answers.) Lunch followed shortly after—a “Nutty Pudding” that looked like purple sludge and tasted like regret. By this point, my sleep-deprived brain was barely functional, and my blender skills were clearly not up to par.
The fasting fiasco
Johnson practices intermittent fasting, meaning his last meal is at 11 AM, and he doesn’t eat again until bedtime at 8 PM. As someone who thrives on snacks, this was torture. By mid-afternoon, I was a shell of a human, crying over my dissertation and eyeing a bag of crisps like a ravenous wolf. In a moment of weakness, I devoured the entire bag. The guilt was real, but so was the satisfaction.
Dinner, thankfully, was a bright spot: a blood orange and fennel salad that was surprisingly delicious. But let’s be honest, by that point, I would’ve eaten anything that wasn’t broccoli or nut-based sludge.
The verdict: did I un-age?
Spoiler alert: No. The next day, I woke up at a reasonable hour, ate fish and chips for lunch, and felt infinitely better. While Johnson’s routine emphasizes good sleep, exercise, and a nutrient-rich diet—all of which are undeniably beneficial—the rest of his regimen feels like a billionaire’s playground. Constant medical monitoring, expensive treatments, and a life devoid of carbs and joy? Hard pass.
Meanwhile, my 92-year-old neighbor is thriving on a diet of sherry and sheer willpower. So, unless I find a willing blood donor and a spare $2 million, I’ll stick to aging the old-fashioned way. Cheers to that.
Until next time, Bryan Johnson—keep chasing that fountain of youth. I’ll be over here, eating crisps and embracing my wrinkles.
