Content warning: This piece discusses dieting and body image. As a young girl, I was taught through school, the women in my family, sports, and social media that our bodies were wrong and needed fixing — projects to be managed, controlled, and shrunk down to size. But, these comparisons haven’t gone away as I’ve grown older: Nowadays, it seems like it’s all about protein powder and deadlifts instead of diet soda and cardio. Along with that, there’s the heavy influence of #GymTok and gym influencers telling us that “strong is the new skinny.” And I’m tired of it.
As a former athlete and avid gym-goer, “Muscle Mommy” is a term I’ve been called by friends many times. So, when I first heard “strong is the new skinny,” I bought into the mindset completely. I swapped my running shoes for lifting straps and learned about progressive overload from my favorite gym girl TikTok influencers. All of their physiques were something I craved and didn’t see in myself: visible abs, a slim waist, and toned arms — but also a “dump truck” with strong quads, and defined calves.
But, for me, this mindset doesn’t just show up in the gym: I remember sitting in a coffee shop with my college friends, all of us in our matching Alo sets, trading our workout routines like we were competitive shoppers comparing our hauls. How much are you lifting? What’s your weekly workout split? Are you eating enough protein? Do you meal prep? We weren’t talking about what our bodies could do, the actual strength, the capability, the job of movement. We were talking about what our bodies looked like while doing it.
Here’s what nobody tells you about the “strong” movement: it comes with its own long list of exhausting rules. You’re supposed to lift heavy, but not too heavy, unless you want to be perceived as “bulky.” You’re supposed to get toned, but maintain enough softness to remain palatable. You’re supposed to post your deadlift PR, but also your post-workout glow, your recovery smoothie bowl, and your gym fit check.
We’re so busy optimizing our bodies that we forget they’re not projects to be completed.
The goal never stops changing: First, it was skinny. Then, it was strong-skinny. Now, it’s strong-skinny-with-the-right-kind-of-muscles-in-the-right-places. We’re so busy optimizing our bodies that we forget they’re not projects to be completed.
But at the end of the day, they’re just bodies. They digest food, pump blood, and carry us through our lives. They don’t owe anyone a particular shape. They are supposed to just… be.
After months of pushing myself past my limit in the gym, I realized something. The moment of freedom for me wasn’t when I hit a new PR. It wasn’t when someone complimented my nice legs. It was when I stopped mid-workout, looked at myself in that mirror, and thought: What if I just existed? What if I moved because it feels good, ate because I’m hungry, and let my body land wherever it lands?
I still go to the gym. I still lift. But I’ve stopped performing for an audience that doesn’t exist, or trying to fit into whatever body type is “trendy” at the moment.
I still go to the gym. I still lift. But I’ve stopped performing for an audience that doesn’t exist, or trying to fit into whatever body type is “trendy” at the moment. Some days, that means lifting heavy because it’s fun and makes me feel powerful. Some days it means taking a walk because the weather is nice and my body wants to move slowly. Some days it means skipping the workout entirely to sleep in, because rest is also a form of caring for my body.
True fitness freedom means opting out of the game entirely. Not trading one body standard for another, not pretending that “strong” is morally superior to “skinny,” and not altering your body to fit into the made-up mantras on your FYP.
Your body doesn’t need to be strong any more than it needs to be “thin.” It doesn’t need to be “toned,” or “lean,” or “snatched,” or any of the other words we use to disguise the fact that we’re still obsessively measuring ourselves against impossible standards. It just needs to be yours. And that — not the ab definition, not the PR, not the gym selfie — is the only goal that is worth chasing.