The Fear Hiding Behind “I’m Just a Hobby Baker”

You bake for fun.

You bake because it’s creative, grounding, joyful.

You bake because it gives you a sense of achievement that the rest of your life doesn’t always offer.

And sometimes, before you even take that first step into selling, you see someone else doing it.

Someone posting immaculate cakes.

Someone whose piping is flawless, whose brownies are glossy, whose presentation is polished.

Someone who is clearly talented — and yet calls herself “just a hobby baker.”

Today, I saw a woman like that.

Beautiful work.

Perfectly styled.

A profile picture that radiated pride and joy.

And then:

£2 cupcakes.

£1 brownies.“

Just a hobby baker.”

It hit me so hard I could have cried.

Not because she’s wrong.

Not because she’s undercutting anyone.

Not because she’s doing anything malicious.

But because I recognise the pattern.

I recognise the shrinking.

I recognise the fear.

Because sometimes “just a hobby baker” isn’t humility.

Sometimes it’s a shield.

A shield from judgement.

A shield from scrutiny.

A shield from the terrifying idea of being visible.

And yes — sometimes it’s a shield from the fear of registering, inspecting, or doing things “properly,” because no one has ever explained what that actually means.

This is the part no one talks about.

People think the “hobby baker debate” is about:

• skill

• confidence

• pricing

• whether you’re “good enough”

• whether you’re “allowed” to sell

• whether baking from home makes it a hobby forever

  
  

But that’s not the real issue.

The real issue is that the moment you step from “fun” into “maybe I could sell this,” you enter a world where:

• ingredient prices have skyrocketed

• customers don’t recognise how much basic ingredients now cost

• chocolate has doubled in price

• butter and sugar have jumped dramatically since 2017

• and yet people still expect the same prices they paid years ago
  

I recently looked back at my old pricing spreadsheet from 2017. Back then, 250g of butter cost around 95p. Today it’s £2.

Sugar was 70p a kilo. Now it’s £2.35

Chocolate? In many cases, double.

So when someone says, “Just charge for ingredients,” it’s not impossible —but it will come to far more than they think it should.

And because you’re baking from home, some people — especially family, friends and work colleagues — assume it’s still a hobby.

Even when you’re taking money.

Even when you’re trying your best.

Even when you’re doing everything you can to be responsible.

Then comes the scariest part: registration, allergens, rules.

Food registration sounds big and official.

Allergen laws sound terrifying.

And because no one explains them clearly, people avoid them.

Or hide behind “it’s just a hobby” because they’re scared of getting it wrong.

But beneath all of that noise — the rules, the pricing debates, the Facebook pile‑ons from people who know better — there’s a quieter fear that almost no one says out loud.

The fear that:

• charging properly makes you greedy

• making money somehow taints the joy

• raising your prices will make everyone disappear

• doing things “right” will turn your hobby into a job

• being legitimate means losing the freedom and creativity you love

  
  

These fears are so common they’re practically universal — but because no one talks about them, every baker thinks she’s the only one feeling them.

And that’s why “just a hobby baker” becomes a shield.

Because if it’s just a hobby, then:

• no one can judge your prices

• no one can expect professionalism

• no one can demand consistency

• no one can criticise your knowledge

• no one can hold you accountable

• and you don’t have to risk losing the joy
  

It’s safety.

It’s protection. It’s a way to stay small without feeling like you’ve failed.

But here’s the quiet, grown‑up truth:

Charging your worth doesn’t kill the joy.

It protects it.

When you charge properly:

• you stop resenting the time it takes

• you stop feeling rushed

• you stop cutting corners

• you stop burning out

• you stop feeling guilty for wanting more

• you stop hiding

You create space for joy, not less of it.

And when you register, when you learn the rules, when you understand what actually applies to you — the fear shrinks. The shame shrinks.

The hiding shrinks.

And you grow.

So what is the “right thing”?

Not what Facebook says.

Not what strangers shout in the comments.

Not what your auntie thinks.

Not what your colleagues expect.

The right thing is:

• knowing the rules that apply to you

• charging in a way that respects your time

• protecting your energy

• creating safely

• and building something that supports your life, not drains it

  
  

The right thing is the thing that lets you keep baking with joy without sacrificing yourself or your family to do it.

If any of this feels uncomfortably familiar, you’re not alone.

You’re in the right place.

And you’re doing better than you think. If this resonated, you don’t have to figure any of it out alone.

I'm building a community of bakers who are learning, growing, and building their businesses with confidence — without the noise, the judgement, or the Facebook pile‑ons.

You can join us here:

• Join the FBK Community Group — a calm, supportive space for bakers who want to do things properly without losing the joy.

• Join the Mailing List — get practical, grown‑up guidance that helps you build a business that supports your life, not drains it.

• Explore the Free Resources — simple tools to help you price, plan, and show up with confidence.

Wherever you choose to start, you’re welcome here.

And you’re doing better than you think.