Let’s talk about something I hear all the time from women starting resistance training:
“But I don’t want to get bulky.”
It’s a common fear—and I get it.
We’ve been conditioned to want to be smaller for as long as we can remember.
We’ve been taught that “feminine” means lean, delicate, toned—but not too defined. Strong—but only if it doesn’t take up too much space. Muscular—but only in a way that still looks soft, slim, and conventionally attractive.
So when someone suggests lifting heavy, building muscle, or fuelling properly, it’s no surprise that the first thought is, What if I lose my femininity? What if I get too big?
But here’s the truth: getting bulky isn’t something that just happens.
Building significant muscle takes years of intentional effort, structured training, eating in a consistent calorie surplus, and prioritising recovery. You don’t accidentally wake up one morning with biceps that rival a bodybuilder’s. It takes dedication, time, and—usually—a lot more food than you’re eating now.
What’s far more likely is that resistance training will help you feel stronger, more energised, and more at home in your body. You’ll move better, feel more capable, and support your long-term health in the process. And yes, you’ll gain a bit of muscle—but that’s a good thing.
But let’s go a little deeper.
Where does this fear of “bulky” actually come from?
Because it’s not really about muscle.
It’s about what muscle represents in a culture that’s told women for generations that their value lies in being small, quiet, agreeable, and pleasing to others.
It’s about a system that celebrates women for shrinking—physically and metaphorically—and punishes them for taking up space.
The word bulky has become code for “too much.”
Too big, too strong, too visible. Too loud. Too confident. Too uncontained.
And that’s exactly what the patriarchy wants us to avoid. Because when women take up space—when we get strong, sure of ourselves, and less focused on being palatable—it challenges the status quo.
Lifting weights isn’t just a health decision. It’s an act of rebellion.
It’s choosing strength over smallness. Function over appearance. Power over perfection.
So no, I don’t think the fear of getting bulky is about aesthetics. I think it’s about fear of stepping into a version of ourselves that isn’t constantly trying to be less.
What if being strong—physically and mentally—was the goal all along?
What if taking up more space wasn’t something to apologise for?
What if your body, just as it is in its strongest, most nourished form, was enough?
Because it is.
So the next time you hesitate to pick up the heavier weight or eat the extra snack that supports your training, ask yourself—who benefits from me staying small?
Spoiler alert: it’s not you.
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