'I'm 64 and feel like I'm 40 again': This anti-aging supplement is being called 'amazing' for boosting energy, skin, and brain power
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What's NMN you might ask? It stands for Nicotinamide Mononucleotide, a supplement that's designed to increase the cellular levels of NAD — a proven coenzyme that's essential for metabolism, cellular function, and DNA repair.
In simple terms, this supplement has anti-aging benefits, improving energy levels, restoring skin elasticity, and optimizing organ health and cognition.
The formula Wonderfeel uses has been engineered by Andrew Salzman, a prominent Harvard MD, professor, and scientist who has over 30 years of experience in the NAD and cellular health space — so you know you're buying a quality product.
You can get mental clarity and improved cognition within just one to three weeks of use, according to the brand. Most will notice more prominent effects within six months of use.
You can choose between the Wonderfeel Youngr NMN or the Wonderfeel NMN Capsuls 1000 mg. The difference between the two is simple: if you already have a wellness routine in place and are taking other supplements, choose the NMN 1000 mg. Each tablet contains about 500 mg of NMN so taking two a day is ideal if you're over 40.
If you want something more well-rounded go with the Wonderfeel Youngr™ NMN supplement. This one is built with emergent antioxidants and sirtuin activators, so more NMN gets where it needs to go. The Youngr supplement packs additional ingredients, including Vitamin D3.
Either way, you're helping your cells regenerate and restoring your youth over time, so there really isn't a wrong answer on which one to choose.
The products are also backed by tons of happy customers, who swear by these NAD supplements.
'This product is amazing. It increases my energy, mood, and mental cognition. I've never had an NAD supplement in pill form that was this powerful,' says one reviewer.
Tons of shoppers also complimented how this supplement quickly improved their nightly sleep patterns.
'I feel great. I am also sleeping well. I have been going to the Veterans Affairs clinic for years and all they have prescribed for sleep is a variety of medications. I am able to sleep now and enjoy the good feeling of a good night sleep. I am very pleased.'
Another says: 'I'm 64 and definitely see a difference in my skin, and feel stronger, like I'm 40 again! I'm able to work all day, ride/train my horse and get to the gym! Thanks!'
If you're looking to get a significant improvement to your daily health and lower your biological age, you haven't missed the boat — you just need Wonderfeel. Try it for yourself and save $25 if you subscribe monthly.
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The Guardian
2 hours ago
- The Guardian
I spent years unlearning an eating disorder – then I was told to diet for health reasons. This is what it taught me
When I was a teenager suffering from anorexia, I thought it was a life sentence. I genuinely believed slogans like 'every woman has an eating disorder' and couldn't imagine a future where calories didn't make me sweat. With this in mind, you must understand that I'm boasting when I write this next sentence: in November 2024, I was diagnosed with 'very high' cholesterol. After years of restriction, I spent my 20s unable to understand why every meal shouldn't be the maximum amount of delicious. This means that last year, I was regularly melting a packet of white chocolate buttons on my morning porridge before heading out for a white chocolate matcha with cream, followed by a cheese and egg sandwich in a brioche bun, a slice of cake, fried chicken and chips, to say nothing of the bread and butter before dinner and dessert. In short, I was smashing through my recommended daily allowance of saturated fat and loving every second of it. 'Treats', to my mind, are not something that have to be earned. I went up a couple of dress sizes and while it would be a lie to say I did so 'happily', I didn't really care too much about it – certainly not enough to change my eating habits or move my legs. But what is mentally healthy isn't always physically healthy – and perhaps I wasn't as mentally healthy as I believed. My recovery had become almost as performative as my disorder. While I once thought I was superior for starving, I soon felt superior for never saying 'no' to ice-cream and never ordering salad without a side of chips. I viewed healthy eaters with suspicion. Maybe I no longer believed that every woman had an eating disorder, but I certainly had the wrongheaded belief that every woman who worked out did. It's hard to shake this mindset, which is, of course, entirely defensive – hence why I just masked my high cholesterol diagnosis with the word 'boasting'. The truth is that my cholesterol results scared me: my family has a long history of strokes and heart attacks, and although I don't have a pension, I am – on the whole – into the idea of reaching old age. I was first diagnosed with high cholesterol in 2023 when I had a health check as part of the Our Future Health scheme, and made some half-hearted attempts to swap brownies for flapjacks. I only accepted that I would really have to change my diet and start exercising after the numbers jumped to 'very high' a year later. I have now spent about half a year eating a healthier, lower saturated fat diet, and have reduced my total cholesterol to 'normal' levels (although I'm only within them by 0.1 of a point, so I still have a way to go). The past six months has made me reflect a lot on our – and my – attitudes to food and health. I feel very happy about where I am mentally now, but quite despondent about the way we all remain imprisoned by contradictory and reductive health messaging. To start with, my doctor couldn't have cared less when I was diagnosed with high cholesterol in 2023, and I don't believe he would have been as flippant if I was overweight. We're told the problem with being fat is that it's unhealthy, but there are people who are heavier than I am who have far better cholesterol levels. I'm certain my doctor would have been sterner if I was 'fat', which is ridiculous because the number on the scale should matter less than the numbers on my blood test results. Yet I was barely asked about my diet. I'm also angry that this all happened because I was taught – and women are still taught! – to focus on calories at the expense of nutrition. A 'bad' food, to many minds, is a calorific one – but there are high-calorie foods that are very healthy, and low-calorie foods that are shockingly high in saturated fat, or low in nutrients in general. Once I recovered from my eating disorder, I saw no reason to limit myself – after all, the world told me that the scariest consequence of eating what you liked was gaining weight, and I was very proud to no longer be scared of that. Of course, I didn't forget that too much saturated fat, salt and sugar are bad for you, but our culture repeats that 'being fat is unhealthy' rather than 'being unhealthy is unhealthy'. The world loves nothing more than a thin woman who can house a burger with extra bacon. Can you blame me for internalising that? But I think I'm most angry that society is set up so that if you want to be healthier, it's assumed you must also want to lose weight. Because here is the sad truth: while total recovery is possible, anorexia never stops waiting for its next opportunity. At the start of the year, I downloaded an app to monitor my saturated fat intake and naturally, obviously, it also counted calories. At first I wished there was a way to remove this feature and then – comically quickly – I became very into it. I didn't eat anywhere near enough for a week, until I confessed to my husband, deleted the app and broke the spell (which I want to let everyone know can be surprisingly easy to do if you break your silence). Again and again, I'm reminded that society seems set up to invite me back to my disorder. I was recently on holiday and averaging 30,000 steps a day because I adore exploring new places on foot. But while I didn't connect my step count to my energy expenditure, my phone did – it sent me a cheery alert that I was burning more calories than usual. Why tell me that? Don't tell me that. Why is the default assumption that I should care? And when I had an appointment with the nurse after my 'very high' diagnosis, she handed me a sheet of paper banning me from eating 'fancy breads'. It seemingly didn't occur to anyone to approach things more sensitively because of my eating disorder history. It's ironic that trying to save myself from a heart attack could have given me one – if I had allowed anorexia to take over my life again in the pursuit of 'health', I would have become unhealthier than ever before. The rise of 'skinny' jabs is driving home these messages like never before: because weight loss is still seen as the ultimate, most desirable goal. Seemingly no one cares if some jabbers taking them for that reason also lose their hair, experience painful gastrointestinal side-effects, don't get enough nutrients to sustain their body, and even reduce the efficacy of their contraception. That's not to mention the risk of vision loss. Once again, weight is seen as the most important marker of health, even though pursuing weight loss can and does make people very unhealthy. But, in the end, it's not just society I'm shaking my fists at – I've been forced to confront myself, too. Post-anorexia, it wasn't healthy for my eating habits to still be such a huge part of my identity. I hated asking pals to swap a pizza reservation for sushi when I got my diagnosis, and I cringed at saying 'no' to a slice of birthday cake at a party in a pub – I especially detested that when I ordered salad at lunch a friend copied me with the words: 'Oh, I should be good too!' There's still a defensive, confrontational part of me that thinks eating healthily and exercising is inherently disordered and unenlightened, and a mean little part of my brain that wants me to whisper, 'Get a life!' at people who eat five fruits and vegetables a day. No matter how I started this article, this isn't actually a healthy attitude. Though it's painful to disclose, I do now actually enjoy exercising. And though it is against my political beliefs to admit this, treats actually are more enjoyable if you're not having them on the hour, every hour. I'm slightly sad that my diagnosis means I once again have to go through life thinking about what I eat – but if I'm honest, maybe I never stopped thinking about it, even when I thought I was completely free. I'm still stuck in a strange middle ground where (sadly) I can feel a little burst of happiness if my trousers seem looser and yet, simultaneously, I can fill a stamp-able sweet shop loyalty card in two weeks. I don't have all the answers. But if there's one thing that I wish I could change … it's my cholesterol. And if there's a second thing, it's our attitudes to diet and health. Amelia Tait is a freelance features writer In the UK, Beat can be contacted on 0808-801-0677. In the US, help is available at or by calling ANAD's eating disorders hotline at 800-375-7767. In Australia, the Butterfly Foundation is at 1800 33 4673. Other international helplines can be found at Eating Disorder Hope Do you have an opinion on the issues raised in this article? If you would like to submit a response of up to 300 words by email to be considered for publication in our letters section, please click here.
The Guardian
2 hours ago
- The Guardian
I spent years unlearning an eating disorder – then I was told to diet for health reasons. This is what it taught me
When I was a teenager suffering from anorexia, I thought it was a life sentence. I genuinely believed slogans like 'every woman has an eating disorder' and couldn't imagine a future where calories didn't make me sweat. With this in mind, you must understand that I'm boasting when I write this next sentence: in November 2024, I was diagnosed with 'very high' cholesterol. After years of restriction, I spent my 20s unable to understand why every meal shouldn't be the maximum amount of delicious. This means that last year, I was regularly melting a packet of white chocolate buttons on my morning porridge before heading out for a white chocolate matcha with cream, followed by a cheese and egg sandwich in a brioche bun, a slice of cake, fried chicken and chips, to say nothing of the bread and butter before dinner and dessert. In short, I was smashing through my recommended daily allowance of saturated fat and loving every second of it. 'Treats', to my mind, are not something that have to be earned. I went up a couple of dress sizes and while it would be a lie to say I did so 'happily', I didn't really care too much about it – certainly not enough to change my eating habits or move my legs. But what is mentally healthy isn't always physically healthy – and perhaps I wasn't as mentally healthy as I believed. My recovery had become almost as performative as my disorder. While I once thought I was superior for starving, I soon felt superior for never saying 'no' to ice-cream and never ordering salad without a side of chips. I viewed healthy eaters with suspicion. Maybe I no longer believed that every woman had an eating disorder, but I certainly had the wrongheaded belief that every woman who worked out did. It's hard to shake this mindset, which is, of course, entirely defensive – hence why I just masked my high cholesterol diagnosis with the word 'boasting'. The truth is that my cholesterol results scared me: my family has a long history of strokes and heart attacks, and although I don't have a pension, I am – on the whole – into the idea of reaching old age. I was first diagnosed with high cholesterol in 2023 when I had a health check as part of the Our Future Health scheme, and made some half-hearted attempts to swap brownies for flapjacks. I only accepted that I would really have to change my diet and start exercising after the numbers jumped to 'very high' a year later. I have now spent about half a year eating a healthier, lower saturated fat diet, and have reduced my total cholesterol to 'normal' levels (although I'm only within them by 0.1 of a point, so I still have a way to go). The past six months has made me reflect a lot on our – and my – attitudes to food and health. I feel very happy about where I am mentally now, but quite despondent about the way we all remain imprisoned by contradictory and reductive health messaging. To start with, my doctor couldn't have cared less when I was diagnosed with high cholesterol in 2023, and I don't believe he would have been as flippant if I was overweight. We're told the problem with being fat is that it's unhealthy, but there are people who are heavier than I am who have far better cholesterol levels. I'm certain my doctor would have been sterner if I was 'fat', which is ridiculous because the number on the scale should matter less than the numbers on my blood test results. Yet I was barely asked about my diet. I'm also angry that this all happened because I was taught – and women are still taught! – to focus on calories at the expense of nutrition. A 'bad' food, to many minds, is a calorific one – but there are high-calorie foods that are very healthy, and low-calorie foods that are shockingly high in saturated fat, or low in nutrients in general. Once I recovered from my eating disorder, I saw no reason to limit myself – after all, the world told me that the scariest consequence of eating what you liked was gaining weight, and I was very proud to no longer be scared of that. Of course, I didn't forget that too much saturated fat, salt and sugar are bad for you, but our culture repeats that 'being fat is unhealthy' rather than 'being unhealthy is unhealthy'. The world loves nothing more than a thin woman who can house a burger with extra bacon. Can you blame me for internalising that? But I think I'm most angry that society is set up so that if you want to be healthier, it's assumed you must also want to lose weight. Because here is the sad truth: while total recovery is possible, anorexia never stops waiting for its next opportunity. At the start of the year, I downloaded an app to monitor my saturated fat intake and naturally, obviously, it also counted calories. At first I wished there was a way to remove this feature and then – comically quickly – I became very into it. I didn't eat anywhere near enough for a week, until I confessed to my husband, deleted the app and broke the spell (which I want to let everyone know can be surprisingly easy to do if you break your silence). Again and again, I'm reminded that society seems set up to invite me back to my disorder. I was recently on holiday and averaging 30,000 steps a day because I adore exploring new places on foot. But while I didn't connect my step count to my energy expenditure, my phone did – it sent me a cheery alert that I was burning more calories than usual. Why tell me that? Don't tell me that. Why is the default assumption that I should care? And when I had an appointment with the nurse after my 'very high' diagnosis, she handed me a sheet of paper banning me from eating 'fancy breads'. It seemingly didn't occur to anyone to approach things more sensitively because of my eating disorder history. It's ironic that trying to save myself from a heart attack could have given me one – if I had allowed anorexia to take over my life again in the pursuit of 'health', I would have become unhealthier than ever before. The rise of 'skinny' jabs is driving home these messages like never before: because weight loss is still seen as the ultimate, most desirable goal. Seemingly no one cares if some jabbers taking them for that reason also lose their hair, experience painful gastrointestinal side-effects, don't get enough nutrients to sustain their body, and even reduce the efficacy of their contraception. That's not to mention the risk of vision loss. Once again, weight is seen as the most important marker of health, even though pursuing weight loss can and does make people very unhealthy. But, in the end, it's not just society I'm shaking my fists at – I've been forced to confront myself, too. Post-anorexia, it wasn't healthy for my eating habits to still be such a huge part of my identity. I hated asking pals to swap a pizza reservation for sushi when I got my diagnosis, and I cringed at saying 'no' to a slice of birthday cake at a party in a pub – I especially detested that when I ordered salad at lunch a friend copied me with the words: 'Oh, I should be good too!' There's still a defensive, confrontational part of me that thinks eating healthily and exercising is inherently disordered and unenlightened, and a mean little part of my brain that wants me to whisper, 'Get a life!' at people who eat five fruits and vegetables a day. No matter how I started this article, this isn't actually a healthy attitude. Though it's painful to disclose, I do now actually enjoy exercising. And though it is against my political beliefs to admit this, treats actually are more enjoyable if you're not having them on the hour, every hour. I'm slightly sad that my diagnosis means I once again have to go through life thinking about what I eat – but if I'm honest, maybe I never stopped thinking about it, even when I thought I was completely free. I'm still stuck in a strange middle ground where (sadly) I can feel a little burst of happiness if my trousers seem looser and yet, simultaneously, I can fill a stamp-able sweet shop loyalty card in two weeks. I don't have all the answers. But if there's one thing that I wish I could change … it's my cholesterol. And if there's a second thing, it's our attitudes to diet and health. Amelia Tait is a freelance features writer In the UK, Beat can be contacted on 0808-801-0677. In the US, help is available at or by calling ANAD's eating disorders hotline at 800-375-7767. In Australia, the Butterfly Foundation is at 1800 33 4673. Other international helplines can be found at Eating Disorder Hope
The Independent
3 hours ago
- The Independent
Ozempic price slashed following Donald Trump's demand
Novo Nordisk is making its popular diabetes drug Ozempic available to American patients for $499 per month, roughly half its standard price, provided they pay in cash. Ozempic, scientifically known as semaglutide, is also sold as the weight-loss medication Wegovy and has significantly transformed diabetes and obesity treatments globally. The price reduction comes after Donald Trump criticised the high cost of GLP-1 agonists in the US, claiming he would drastically cut prescription drug prices. Trump has previously accused European nations of unfairly burdening American patients with drug costs due to their healthcare systems' bargaining power. While pharmaceutical companies are exploring ways to lower drug prices, Trump's proposed tariffs could potentially increase the cost of US drugs manufactured abroad.
