There is a vicious, green witch in the female psyche that persistently incites us to compare ourselves to other women.
It demands that we measure our weight, our breast size, our complexion, our careers, our talents, our qualities, our sexiness, our intellects, our wardrobes, our popularity and our whole lives with those of other women. Can any of us claim to be immune to this uncomfortable phenomenon? If we aren’t the one doing the comparing, then we are the one against whom other women measure themselves. And it can feel horrible.