This isn’t a fat or skinny thing. I would totally make out with Lizzo, so I have no problems with fat girls. Or skinny girls. I would make out and rub around on most of them except… crossfit girls.
Fuck me, what an asshole. right? But I don’t like toxic masculine, wounded feminine identity dressed up as discipline and grind. And look, bull dykes, let’s talk about that too, since we’re on the topic of sexuality.
I’ve seen and been around the type of lesbians that look like guys and thought some of them were sexy, like hmm, yummy.
I’m turned on and off by energy. And crossfit bodies, women who train to look like fucking guys, scratch that, they aren’t trying to look like guys, because let’s go there too.
I have friends who are female IFBB pro bodybuilders, the kind that actually have dicks as clits because they’ve taken so many roids. I love them. They’re sweet, kind, and most of them see their muscles as art. But the CROSSFIT GRIND CULTURE. Fuck it.
And yes, I came from this culture, so this says more about me than you.
I remember the feeling of crossfit and grind workouts. They only happened if I was caffeinated or on pre-workout. The feeling that I was in performance mode. Strong. Able to hang with and be better than most men. It got me off. And yet, inside, I had nothing. My relationship looked good on paper, but it wasn’t deep, connected, soft, or feminine. I wasn’t making the kind of money I wanted, nor was I creating the impact I knew I was put on earth to live out.
I actually swore off the feminine for years because she was weak, emotional, fat, lazy, whiny, the caregiver, broke, blamed everything on the kids, the house, the world. Turns out the only feminine I knew was the wounded one, so of course masculine control, performance, structure, and blocky muscles made me feel safe. Safe from being vulnerable, afraid, or needy.
Plus I didn’t need to be a “regular woman.” They were boring and basic as fuck. I could be strong. Better than. The one who did what most people wouldn’t, got up and trained even when I didn’t feel like it. I called it discipline. It was actually self-abandonment. Self-erasure. Every forced rep chipped away a little more of the real me and buried her at the same time.
So when I see women who look like this, I see the inside of what drives them. And don’t come at me with “they can be feminine and soft and still look this way.” Go read someone else’s blog. This is about me.
My question to women like that is, stop. Who are you without caffeine, forced reps, pre-workout, and grind? Who are you when life hits you? Can you be gentle with yourself without it meaning you’re weak? Can you actually listen to your body’s wisdom and honor it? Because one day we will all be old as shit. The deadlift will be 135 instead of 315. Who are you then? Did she deepen? Did she feel grief? Did she feel silence? Did she watch the wind in the trees? Or was she too busy trying to outperform being alive and human?
Grind culture is one of the most toxic fucking things on this planet. For some of us, grind was survival. But when survival ends, and you can choose, choosing grind is just another cage. My body is healthier and looks better now than it did back then. Same for my husband. When we broke up with grind fitness culture, we didn’t get softer.
We got healthier, hotter, and happier as a byproduct.
Back then, though, was leaner? sure, but it cost me everything. My hormones. My softness. My relationship. My spiritual connection. Same with business.
Here’s what I know… masculine energy will kill a woman faster than anything because she’s running away from herself on many levels.
Once you learn how to actually be a woman, you stop trying to win at exercise. There’s more to life than being strong on paper. Like, great sex. Deep presence. Letting yourself be held. Letting go. having more fucking fun in life and business. Not proving. Not performing the role of “miss fitness”. Not trying to outdo the world or your brother, father or yourself.
When I see women with huge delts, blocky waists, tiny asses, turtle-shell abs, I don’t see power. I see armor. I see compensation. I see someone still trying to be safe by being impressive.
Life will hunt you down until you fold. Some people fold softly. Some people get injured, sick, burned out, and call it “just aging.” What a fucking waste.
So yes, when I see women trying to become men through crossfit and grind, it grosses me out. It feels forced. Unnatural. Disconnected.
And most of them come to me wondering why they can’t lose stubborn fat. It’s not a mystery. They’re beating the fuck out of their bodies and calling it health.
My advice is simple. Who are you without the stimulant, without the grind identity, without proving. I’m all for lifting. I expect to be strong and healthy. I train because I respect my body, not because I hate it.
Exercise is essential. But obsession is not. Body dysmorphia is not. Using fitness to avoid your feelings is not. That path leads to autoimmune issues, hormone collapse, relationship damage, and kids who grow up around nervous systems that never soften.
You have to allow your body feel safe. You have to train in a way that builds, not punishes. Progressive overload doesn’t require self-violence.
There is a way to be strong, sexy, feminine, and alive without turning yourself into a performance machine.
And yes, women forcing crossfit and getting off on how strong they feel, growing mini dicks and calling it empowerment, are compensating for something else.
Same with people who mutilate their faces trying not to age. Same pattern. Different costume.
The strongest, most polished, and pretty-looking people are often the most terrified of being seen without armor.
So stop thinking a masculine body makes you superior. It’s just another place to hide.
Lift because it feels good. Build your ass, not your traps. Thank me later.
P.S. The power code is now open- real-life mentorship for business, life, health, and relationships. dm me for the application, or join my free community link in bio on IG or this website.
