Guilt vibrated through my body, I answered. Demoralized, he begged, “Please delete the s*** picture of me on your gram, use another one, but that one is disgusting”. These simple words struck me; Oliver, never bashful, was truly humiliated. I had plastered a vile picture across the explore page. Every moment it lingered, collecting laughs from old friends, his dignity withered. Simultaneously, remorse ebbed through my veins, carrying self hatred back to my heart. Why should I expose Oliver’s insecurities when I know just how much damage it can do?

****

Transformation Tuesday is simply a day of shameless self promotion across various platforms of social media. I planned to capitalize on the weekly “egotistic” tag, to promote my parody fitness page. When exploring Instagram my post would catch anyone's eye, hopefully yielding new followers. The post consisted of a side by side comparison, depicting the results of a six week fitness program. On one side of the image stood my lifelong friend Oliver; his nappy hair tumbled over his cheekbones, clavicle protruding from his feeble chest. Only clad in dreary grey underwear and mismatched tube socks as white as his skin, Oliver resembled a skeleton. On the other side appeared a mountain of a man. Nick Kramer towered out of a pool, carmel skin reflecting in the sun’s rays, striations creating ridges and furrows of lean muscle. He had been blessed with a metabolism barring him from double digit body fat, and an ability to amass muscle almost unnaturally, endowing him with the perfect physique. This evolution, from scrawny to swole, exemplified the results following SammyHSchoolOfGains’s light-hearted fitness advice and nutrition.
   

My account grew from a small following of close friends to a large group of my school's senior class. Each post, more sarcastic that the last, consisted of nutrition or exercises. In the troubled waters of teenage social media, where jokes are often taken too far, I hoped for SammyHSchoolOfGains to remain civil, yet comical. My goal for the page was to inspire friends and classmates into achieving self improvement. Fitness improves one's self esteem and outlook on life. Just as it helped me conquer me insecurities created from multiple scalp surgeries.

Reinstalling self confidence that had been ravaged throughout my childhood due to being the butt of the joke. Although I had overcome these struggles with bullying, I experienced heavy empathy for victims and hope to never torment another the way I was.

After posting the transformation of Oliver and Nicks’ pictures side by side, the likes infested. Instagram bodybuilders, fitness models, and motivational pages flocked to the post. Five, ten, twenty five likes in only a matter of minutes. The oxymoron of physiques boosted the popularity past all of my other posts.Then my followers surprised me. My post grew with cruel and unwarranted comments. Old friends and strangers poked fun at Oliver’s protruding rib cage; others targeted his feminine figure and ghostly appearance. These remarks cinched a knot in my stomach; I would be infuriated to be the target of this jape. I should have asked for Oliver approval. At twenty six likes, he discovered the post. Being one of the most comical people I know, I had assumed Oliver would have a good laugh, running bare at parties and skinny dipping in the ocean wasn’t unusual behavior. I was wrong; the now exposed insecurities of Oliver left me embarrassed of my actions.

He interpreted my post as a personal attack, exploiting him across the internet for personal gain and popularity. Although intended as a harmless joke, I had not asked for his consent. I began to stress, the friendship we had built over many years was now in jeopardy. I attempted to bandage the wounds I had caused, the photo was taken down, but I would continue to carry the sickening feeling of guilt. Guilt of this unintentional pain tore at me even after the evidence no longer existed. Guilt when Oliver confronted me with his anger and pain, yet I had been myopic to the repercussions of my doing. Guilt overwhelmed me; I had morphed into the sick monster that once teased innocent children over scars and surgeries. Attacking friends such as Oliver, and strangers with crude comments or indecent actions now evokes immediate regret. My conscious demands I apologize, because I understand the anguish a single remark can leave behind.