I spent months feeling like a total failure on our track team because this guy in my year is completely shredded on Instagram. Yesterday in the locker room his bag spilled, and out rolled contouring makeup palettes and literal silicone muscle sleeves. He panicked and begged me not to tell. I'm completely stunned.

Welcome to the grand illusion of the digital locker room: half of what makes you feel inadequate is literally held together by silicone and bronzer. Take a breath and enjoy the plot twist. You've been beating yourself up for running on standard teenage biology while your teammate was out here doing stage makeup before practice. The irony is, he isn't some genetic demigod laughing at late bloomers—he's just as petrified as you were, except he's sweating under synthetic abs to hide it. Puberty hits everyone on its own chaotic schedule, and no amount of gym-fluencer lighting changes the fact that your real muscles actually run your track times. You don't need to expose him. Next time you see him looking stressed, just give him a quiet nod and say, "Hey, your secret's safe with me—we're all just trying to get through high school." Save your energy for the track. Authentic lungs and real legs will always outrun a painted six-pack.