Can You Really Quantify Your "Best Self"?
We’re trying to optimize everything about our lives, and it’s stressing us the hell out.
You’ve probably heard of Bryan Johnson, even if the name might not immediately ring a bell. He’s that tech bro who wants to live forever; with that aim in mind, he transfuses the blood of his teenage son into his own body. He even created an app called “Don’t Die,” which gamifies—you guessed it—not dying. (I’d be into it if it involves dodging ghosts, like Ms Pac-man, but I suspect it does not.)
Johnson calls himself “the most measured man in history”—and that’s probably not an exaggeration. He created the “Rejuvenation Olympics,” an online leaderboard that ranks participants by how much they can slow their aging process, and he recently made headlines because his nighttime erections almost rival that of his son. (Yes! They each have penis-measuring devices, which must have made for an awkward holiday gift exchange.)
Whatever you think of Johnson, it’s clear that we live in an age defined by data, algorithms, and numbers. We—at least, many of us in the United States—believe we can use metrics to optimize our lives. Johnson has obviously taken this to an extreme, but the concept pervades all of our lives.
What gets measured gets done.
If you work in tech or business, you’ve probably heard this phrase. A variation is often attributed to management consultant Peter Drucker or statistician W. Edwards Deming: “If you can’t measure it, you can’t manage it.”
At my last job, our CEO used to say this phrase as a caution to avoid vanity metrics—metrics that look impressive but don’t actually give you the information you need to make good decisions. And in that context, it does seem like the phrase could apply to both the professional and personal.
The revered business consultant and academic Clayton M. Christensen wrote an award-winning Harvard Business Review article about how to measure your life (and spoiler: it was not with coffee spoons. God, I love The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock.)
Christensen advised his MBA students to ask themselves three questions to create a life strategy focused on values and work-life balance. Then, they should allocate their resources to ensure they weren’t “underinvesting” in their families and “overinvesting” in their careers. Christensen pointed out that career success is easier to measure than familial success, which pays off over a longer period of time.
In other words, Christensen wanted people to develop life KPIs—strategic metrics that move you toward long-term goals—and then allocate their resources accordingly. Unfortunately, most of us have lost sight of our personal KPIs—if we ever paid attention to them—and are instead focused on vanity metrics. We live in a “metric culture” where measurement defines and shapes our everyday experience and our world.
This became apparent to me when, just a few weeks ago, my Fitbit broke. I had no idea how many steps I was taking a day or how many hours I slept. That sudden void of information really bothered me—despite the fact that none of this information qualified as a KPI. That’s when it struck me. We’re measuring and managing everything in our personal lives.
A hundred years ago, a factory worker’s output might have been tracked, but everything else in his life? Unmeasured. Today, most people deal with metrics at work, but many are also tracking their sleep quality, their steps, their heart rate, their number of likes on social media, their matches on Tinder, and more.
We’re trying to optimize everything about our lives, and it’s stressing us the hell out—because “What gets measured gets done.” If you measure everything, you’re going to optimize everything, even if it’s not really that important in the scheme of things.
I wish I was the first person to have this revelation, but of course, I’m not. Way back in 2009, Kate Gibb and Gary Wolf of Wired co-authored a very optimistic article about the “quantified self.” They posited that we can use all this collected info for the general good. I can’t blame them—back then, I think most of us were still naive enough to believe these measurements would add meaning to our lives.
What could be the harm of measuring everything? We’d be better. We’d be motivated to continuously improve ourselves. We’d be optimized.
A Brief History of Metrics
I debated whether to include this section, but I do think it gives some necessary context. Please note that I’m not claiming to be an expert in this area; everything here is based on my own (likely incomplete) research.
The first mention of educational and governmental metrics I found dates back to ancient China and its Imperial Examination System. This was an attempt to hire government officials based on their merit, rather than their connections. (As a side note, around 230 AD, the Chinese royal family had the first recorded performance review. I wonder if they were subjected to self-evaluations...)
Exam systems remained the status quo for measurement for most of modern history. That is, until the Industrial Revolution, which began in late 18th-century Britain. Prior to this time, economic progress had been gradual, but the explosive growth caused by the Industrial Revolution made people realize that more efficient production methods could transform the economy.
Meanwhile, in Philadelphia, Frederick W. Taylor took a job at a steel plant, where he developed a system of scientific management to improve his factory’s efficiency and output. Over the next hundred and fifty years, business measurement models evolved to become what they are today.
Now, almost every workplace is focused on efficiency, productivity, and increased output. Even hospital chaplains must track their time. Wouldn’t want to be inefficient while counseling the sick and dying!
It’s not a coincidence that the use of metrics in education also exploded during the Industrial Revolution. It was a period of high immigration and urbanization, as rural workers flocked to factories. Prior to this, many schools held oral exams, but their resources were increasingly strained. An ally of Horace Mann, an educational reformer, said that testing provided “a single standard by which to judge and compare the output of each school.”
As the population grew, so did taxes to support schools. There was an outcry for efficiency and schools responded by adhering to the “principles of bureaucratic management.” You probably know the rest: No Child Left Behind, Race to the Top, the SATs, and the general rise of standardized testing.
Have all these metrics resulted in better education? I think most of us would say no. While, anecdotally, I think my child is receiving an excellent public school education, a staggering 54% of US adults read at a fifth-grade level or below.
What’s the solution? I wish I knew, but treating schools like factories doesn’t seem to have had the desired results
We now seem to be in the Fourth Wave of the Industrial Revolution, which focuses on emerging technologies. It seems to me that this wave has ushered in a society focused on the optimization of our personal lives using apps and social media.
Look around. Feel overwhelmed by the world? I know I do. Long-standing systems and institutions are being dismantled. Individually, it’s hard to feel like you make a difference. But one thing you can control? Your own output and the resulting dopamine hits as you meet your metrics.
Did you walk 10,000 steps? You’re a productive person! Did you write a viral skeet? You’re a hilarious person who isn’t just wasting time doomscrolling! You’re building an audience (even if you’re not sure exactly why). Personal metrics make us feel like we’re achieving something, even if we’re not actually moving toward long-term goals.
I believe the “personal brand” movement contributed heavily to this phenomenon. As Tom Peters wrote in 1997, career success no longer hinged on showing up and doing good work; instead, workers needed to build a personal brand to differentiate themselves and demonstrate the ways they add value. Later, Peters himself said that this led to the gig economy, where everything is measured and, if possible, monetized.
As a result, personal and professional brands slowly began to merge. You can see the results everywhere.
We no longer have “friends” on social media; they’re now called “followers.” If you have enough, you can make a living as an influencer.
(a great writer!) has written about the pressure to monetize—rather than just enjoy—hobbies.And romance? Forget it. As Jia Tolentino writes, “These days, in this country, sex has become a hyper-efficient and deregulated marketplace, and, like any hyper-efficient and deregulated marketplace, it often makes people feel very bad. Our newest sex technologies, such as Tinder and Grindr, are built to carefully match people by looks above all else. Sexual value continues to accrue to abled over disabled, cis over trans, thin over fat, tall over short, white over nonwhite, rich over poor.”
All of this seems to have accelerated the loneliness epidemic. I hear Gen Zers say that they would never approach a potential romantic interest in real life; they fear being called “creepy.” We’ve built our brands, and we optimize everything about ourselves, including our dating profiles—but many of us still feel disconnected and isolated.
How Fear Is Used to Monetize Personal Metrics
As I mentioned, metric culture began with business and spread to governmental institutions—but now we’ve moved into a space where individuals are voluntarily quantifying themselves via apps and websites. What’s more, they’re sharing that data. In fact, I’d argue Gen Zers have only ever lived in a world where it’s standard to surrender reams of data to companies.
But here’s the thing: people are not profiting from their own data. Companies are. In fact, we have very little control over who accesses and stores our data every time we go online or use an app that measures our wellness. We all know how it works: algorithms engage, enrage, and target us as consumers. In 2025, this really isn’t news to anyone. That’s why I’d like to talk about another angle.
In the digital age, personal metrics have become inextricably intertwined with professional metrics—and it starts as early as high school. College-bound kids need to define their niche. They can’t just take theater just because they think they might enjoy it; their extracurriculars must build their personal narrative and demonstrate their commitment. When students apply to college, they need to wrap all their metrics—GPA, SAT/ACT scores, extracurriculars—into a cohesive package bolstered by a stellar essay. Wherever the kid is “lacking,” there’s an opportunity to sell a product or service to help create their best self.
After they graduate college or grad school, it continues. In the 1960s, a new graduate might walk into an office, hand off their resume, ace an interview, and stay at the same company for 45 years, getting steady promotions and raises. Now, even Harvard MBAs are struggling to find jobs—despite the fact that I’m sure most of them have very quantified resumes showcasing specific results. As AI threatens to replace many jobs (and not just for humanities majors), it can feel more important than ever to stand out.
And if you’re skillful enough to intertwine your personal and professional metrics, you can build a business based on your exceptionality. Look at Bryan Johnson—while he made his fortune elsewhere, he’s now pursuing his overriding interest in life—not dying. As part of that mission, he’s selling biomarker tests, merch, supplements and protein powders. (All eerily close to the products sold in the tradwife stores I mentioned in this piece.) You, too, can sign up for his protocol and if your metrics are good enough, you just might make Johnson’s leaderboard.
Just be prepared to share the duration and hardness of your nighttime erections! And maybe your son’s, too. After all, no shame, no game.
On a related note, if you have a period tracking app, please delete it if you haven’t already.