For a long time, I was all about hardcore workouts: HIIT, cycling, powerlifting, and kettlebell sessions where I felt every joint strain under pressure, sweated through my clothes, and had to double up on socks to avoid blisters from my spin shoes. I was a soft girl with a soft body taking on hard workouts, and it was because I felt I had something to prove—perhaps to myself, maybe to those around me, or even to the wider fitness community. I, a plus-size woman, could endure the burpees and tapbacks.

I come from a long line of athletes: my grandfather coached baseball in the Bronx into his 50s, my father can still catch football passes, and my brother had scouts eyeing him in junior high. Even my grandmother, in her 80s, walked a mile daily to stay limber. As a teen, I played soccer, basketball, baseball, and ran track. I was tall, sturdy, and agile. I loved team spirit and wore my uniforms proudly, but even then, my focus was on weight loss, not the game itself. I believed acceptance meant becoming smaller through sports and workouts, something I had internalized as a child.

I (incorrectly) thought I couldn’t rest or recover, driven by a desire to prove my soft, round body could endure.

In my twenties, I joined rec leagues, playing basketball and rugby for club teams. Despite dealing with plantar fasciitis and occasional back injuries, I persevered. I used ice, did offseason workouts, wore braces for arch support, discovered spin classes and boutique gyms, and applied knee tape as my grandfather had taught me for pain relief. I (incorrectly) thought I couldn’t rest or recover, driven by a desire to prove my soft, round body could endure.

Despite my unwavering dedication to demanding workouts and meticulously adjusting my diet, I never achieved the aesthetic results I expected. While it felt empowering to maintain a routine of strength training and cardio classes, my body kept giving me signs that it wasn’t happy: I would unclip my swollen foot from a pedal, or feel a twinge in my trap muscles after weights, plaguing me with injury concerns.

Would I inadvertently harm myself? Would my right foot swell after each cycle class? This fear loomed over every workout, casting doubt on the value of these intense routines. Despite my efforts, the stress persisted. I remained unchanged in every sense of the word.

Shifting to ‘soft girl’ workouts

My leg, foot, and already delicate back began to protest, forcing me to reassess the classes, instructors, and community I cherished. Let me be clear: I adored them. However, I gradually realized I was conforming to societal expectations rather than listening to my body’s needs.

With a round belly, a propensity for joint discomfort, and a noticeable dip in my back that posed challenges when lifting, squatting, and crunching, I used to push through the pain, convinced that more effort and sweat were the keys to fitness nirvana. But as I laid on the couch with ice packs strapped to my limbs, this approach seemed unsustainable.

I needed to become more mindful—both physically and emotionally. Lindsey Strobel, creator of Fat Body Pilates and a comprehensively trained, size-inclusive Pilates student advocate, believes in the profound benefits of mindfulness and lower-intensity movement practices.

According to Strobel, in our fast-paced lives, we are often urged to overlook our true selves and the signals our bodies send—whether it’s through enduring high-intensity workouts just to “keep up,” or through the relentless scrutiny of our diets and appearances to meet ever-changing standards.

“Dedicating time to slowing down, letting our nervous systems settle, and looking inward for cues when they’re coming at us with such authority from the outside is hard,” Strobel says. “But it’s also the only way that we can figure out how to live a life that’s aligned with our personal values and ensures we’re making the most of our time. And hey, if we can do that in Pilates class while also moving our bodies in ways that actually feels good—double win.”

I ventured into a Pilates class after an orthopedist suggested it while pointing out misalignments in my hip, knee, and foot on my left side. Pilates Coven on the Lower East Side, a studio embracing a “come as you are” ethos, marked a pivotal shift from my previous hardcore workout community, where weight loss goals subtly loomed and sideways glances often followed me as the singular larger-bodied participant.

At Pilates, I found a retreat to move and stretch, easing hip tension without customary discomfort. A calf stretch where you place your toes on the footbar and drop your heels under felt so good, I would purchase a reformer just to do that every single day.

Pilates Coven co-owner and founder Sabrina Castro notices her clients have a positive shift in their mentality when taking classes. “There is a shift away from perfectionism and constantly trying to publicly prove something to others, whether it’s worth, strength, looking a certain way, having [a certain mindset] hardcore exercisers brag about,” she says. “It’s stressful and exhausting to one’s mental, emotional, and physical health.”

What soft girl era workouts are

Welcome to my ‘soft girl era,’ where I’ve embraced gentler activities like Pilates, aqua aerobics, stretching, and nature walks.

I came across the term soft girl era on TikTok about a year ago—a shift from hustle culture to a more chill, stress-free vibe—and was totally into it. I’ve always been one to push myself and my body to the limit, so embracing this mindset, whether for low-impact workouts or simply living with more ease, just felt right.

“I notice with myself and others around me who make the shift from high-impact to low-impact, you stop caring and trying to prove something,” Castro says. “You learn to be softer and easier with yourself.”

While I cherished my cycle classes, HIIT community, and powerlifting, I realized they weren’t cultivating the strength my body needed or the clarity my mind sought—not to say they don’t have benefits. Sprinkling in some high-impact workouts now and then has helped keep my bones strong and ready to support my body.

But trading kettlebells for Pilates reformers and spin bikes for serene hikes in nature marked a significant, less perfect shift, just like Castro predicted. Despite the calm appearance of low-impact workouts, I’ve discovered their quiet insistence on heightened mindfulness. While I initially expected a mental shift, hoping to find centering through better body awareness, it turned out to be a deep physical transformation too.

Every intentional movement in Pilates awakens muscles I’d overlooked, urging me to prioritize form over speed. Neglected small muscles suddenly come alive, boosting my strength and stability overall. The notion that low-impact workouts lack intensity is a complete misconception.

“With exercises like Pilates and yoga, our muscles are challenged in a [different] way than, say, a HIIT workout,” Castro says. “Low-impact exercises are typically slower and people are not used to moving slowly. However, by slowing down you are actually training your mind and deep muscle fibers to activate and build the strength to stabilize and work in unison with larger superficial muscles.”

This change in approach has been truly revelatory, placing emphasis on quality over quantity and creating a connection with my body. Everyday activities took on more stability; carrying groceries, tidying the house, and playing with my dogs became noticeably more effortless.

“Low-impact exercises are also more useful for everyday living,” says Castro. “Most of our day is spent moving at a leisurely pace. Our bodies are not built to run and push push push for hours. So adapting a form of exercise that supports your regular everyday lifestyle can help and prolong longevity and quality of life and prevent physical and emotional fatigue, injury and chronic stress.”

Shifting physically and mentally

Even after embracing low-impact workouts and listening to my body, I realized my relentless drive to prove myself stemmed from internalized fatphobia. Despite making peace with my size 20 body and appreciating its strengths—like squatting lower and lifting heavier—I still viewed it through societal expectations.

Lauren Leavell, CPT, a certified personal trainer and group fitness instructor, emphasizes in her classes that we’re a community, not competitors, and feeling different can be daunting, especially with stereotypes about how larger-bodied individuals perform.

“It is important to remember that this class is for you. If you want or need to take a break, take one,” she says. “Pushing through for the sake of performing for others is not necessarily going to support your movement practice. Learning to listen to your body is such a gift.”

Transitioning to low-impact workouts posed a unique challenge in my shift toward a soft girl era. Amidst the deliberate movements of yoga and Pilates, my mind wanted to wander to daily tasks or recent conversations. The real challenge lay in staying present, honing each movement, and deepening my connection with my body.

Being a soft girl means athletic shorts embracing my round hips, enjoying a warm tea before Pilates, finding my spot on the reformer, and chatting with the instructor pre-class. It’s about prioritizing rest before exercise, feeling deeply connected to my body in every pose, and smiling through challenging stretches. I’m embracing a summer of water aerobics and pausing during nature walks to appreciate scenery rather than chasing steps.

Embracing the soft girl life has revealed a sustainable, joyous journey toward staying active and connected with myself. It transcends the pursuit of a perfect body that doesn’t exist or breaking personal records; instead, it’s about finding tranquility and joy in every movement. To all the soft girls out there—see you in class.