When Confidence Sounds Like Credibility

Plus the menu for the week of November 16-20th

Nov 13, 2026

My son recently got Instagram.

And, of course, as a parent, I find myself wondering what kinds of accounts he’ll choose to follow and what the algorithm will decide to feed him…whether he asks for it or not.

In a recent conversation with him, the name Peter Attia came up. I honestly can’t remember how we got there (perimenopause moment), but I do remember wondering how to describe someone like him…

Here’s someone who’s incredibly articulate, clearly intelligent, has written a wildly popular book, and speaks about health with tremendous confidence. Even some of my fellow colleagues have read his work and found value in it.

And yet, I have reservations.

Not necessarily about everything he’s saying, but about the way health information can often be presented with more certainty than the science deserves.

I feel similarly about Andrew Hubermans of the world and other very popular voices in the health and wellness space.

These are intelligent people who have introduced millions to scientific research and, in many ways, have made meaningful contributions to public health.

But I also wonder what happens when the confidence with which someone communicates becomes part of the reason we believe them.

And how do I help my kids recognize the difference?

When the Message Is Too Simple

One of the things I’ve come to appreciate after years of working as a registered dietitian is just how rarely a good answer is a simple one.

How much protein should a teenage boy eat?

Well, it depends.

How old is he? Is he still growing? What sports is he playing? How much is he training? What does the rest of his diet look like?

Or consider some of the messaging around testosterone therapy for women in midlife.

You might hear someone talk about testosterone as though it’s the missing ingredient for better energy, improved libido, and finally feeling like yourself again.

And sometimes, the conversation makes it sound as though there’s plenty to gain and very little to lose.

But is it really that simple?

There are certainly situations where testosterone therapy may be appropriate. But the evidence for its benefits, the limitations of what we know, and the potential risks deserve a much more thoughtful conversation.

When someone offers a remarkably simple answer to a complicated health question, I think that’s worth paying attention to.

It doesn’t automatically make the information wrong. Sometimes simple advice is exactly what we need.

But when there’s no room for individual differences, limitations, or other possibilities, I get curious about what’s being left out.

Does This Person Ever Say “I Don’t Know”?

I recently listened to a podcast that brought up something I’ve been thinking about for years: One of the qualities we might look for in someone offering expert advice is their willingness to express doubt.

When I think about some of the researchers and clinicians I most respect, they’re often the ones who are comfortable saying things like:

We don’t know yet.
The research is still evolving.
Here’s what the evidence suggests right now.
That might be true for some people, but not necessarily for everyone.

I hear this frequently on one of my favorite sports science podcasts. Researchers who have spent their careers studying a particular question are often remarkably careful about how they answer it.

Not because they don’t understand the science, but because they understand how much there is still to learn.

And I wonder whether we’ve gotten so accustomed to people delivering confident answers that we’ve started to interpret uncertainty as a weakness. When perhaps it’s one of the strongest signs of credibility.

Expertise Doesn’t Extend Everywhere

There’s another concept from that podcast that stuck with me: expertise spillover.

Someone becomes well-known for their knowledge in a particular field, and gradually their authority seems to extend into other areas.

A neuroscientist becomes a voice on nutrition. A physician becomes an authority on exercise physiology. A dietitian starts giving advice about hormone replacement therapy.

And because someone has established credibility in one space, we may be less inclined to question their expertise in another.

I’m certainly not suggesting that experts can’t develop knowledge outside their primary fields. And interdisciplinary conversations can be incredibly valuable.

But being an expert in one area doesn’t automatically make someone an expert in everything they discuss.

That includes me.

There are plenty of questions clients bring into my office where I can offer some perspective, but I’m not the person best qualified to give them a definitive answer.

And I think knowing that distinction matters.

Sometimes the Best Expert Isn’t the Loudest One

Not long ago, I was trying to make a decision about whether intravenous iron might be appropriate for me.

There was plenty of information I could have found online. I could have visited a med spa and potentially heard a compelling explanation for how an iron infusion might improve my energy.

But instead, I reached out to a hematologist at Washington University who works with people navigating iron-related concerns.

I wanted to hear from someone who spends their days evaluating these questions in clinical practice.

Someone who understands not only the potential benefits but also the limitations, risks, and situations where treatment may not be necessary.

This wasn’t nearly as convenient as listening to a podcast or scrolling through Instagram. But it was worth it!

And I think that’s part of what I’d like to communicate to my kids.

You don’t have to investigate every single claim someone makes online. None of us has the time or energy for that.

But when something catches your attention, especially something that might influence a decision about your health, maybe it’s worth hearing from a few different voices.

Maybe one of those voices should be the less exciting person who doesn’t have a million followers or a microphone.

The clinician who sees patients every day. The researcher who has spent decades studying one small piece of a much larger question.

The person willing to tell you that the answer isn’t entirely clear.

What I Hope My Kids Learn

I’m not particularly interested in creating a list of people my kids should or shouldn’t follow.

For one thing, those lists would be endless. And I don’t want them to assume that someone with a large platform has nothing valuable to say.

I’d rather they learn to notice how information is being delivered.

Is there room for nuance? Does this person acknowledge what they don’t know? Are they speaking within their area of expertise? Are they leaving space for the possibility that something might be different for someone else?

And perhaps most importantly, can they listen to someone who sounds incredibly confident without assuming that confidence means they’re right?

Because the loudest, most certain voice in the room isn’t necessarily the one with the best answer.

Sometimes the person I trust most is the one willing to say, “I’m not sure.”