I’m sitting in a small, emerald-green room as a nurse counts the vials that she will need to use for my warm red blood. I have no fear of needles and I’m a woman who lives and breathes in America. I am used to getting poked and prodded. She and I exchange meaningful glances over the 13 tubes of glass. She tells me, “It looks worse.” Like most 30-somethings I have a nagging feeling I should be more dedicated to achieving optimal wellness. Like most 30-somethings with stacked obligations, I have a limit on how much I’m willing to do. I didn’t come here to be told that I should exercise more or switch to a Paleo-style diet. I want a pill. Me and most of the people you know. According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC), more than half of adult women and men take a dietary supplement, and that proportion is on the rise. Around 100,000 different supplements are available on the market (which the FDA defines as ingestibles meant to supplement the diet). These interventions range from the familiar, like the humble supplement, to more witchy formulations such as microbiome “boosters,” sleep chews and tablets that reduce stress, bloating and toxins in the bloodstream, and capsules designed to speed up metabolism. Not to mention injectable peptides, hormones and mushroom elixirs that further stretch the definition of a “supplement”. Even the most sane and rational among us can be tempted by their quick-fix promises. After her hair started falling out in large amounts, an acquaintance (the daughter two doctors) told how she used vitamin gummies. She searched the drugstore aisles to find a product that was high in biotin, which boosts hair follicles. Does it work? This friend read labels in a store, which is a charming approach, according to The Lanby cofounder Chloe Harrouche. She explains that most people get their supplements from Instagram. “They’re saying, ‘Well if it worked, ….'” Many report getting health information on social media. This can be rife in misinformation. (supplements don’t cure measles). Should I subscribe to a brand of “superfoods gummies” which claims to combine a vitamin with adaptogens and herbs, antioxidants and prebiotics as well as’super mushrooms and the nutritional equivalent to whole vegetables and fruit? Could I live up to 100 and be nimble with AG1, a greens supplement endorsed by podcaster and neuroscientist Andrew Huberman. Should I read any of the dozens of articles about creatine that I’ve seen? (Yes, Abbie Smith Ryan, a professor of Exercise Physiology at the University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill, says, “It is not the magic supplement people are selling but it can have significant results”) Is my quest a longing for a Flintstones multivitamin I was forbidden to take as a kid (“Eat your broccoli and then we can talk,” said my mother)? Could there be a single encapsulated element standing between me and perfect concentration with Jennifer Lawrence’s hair?