When Chumi first got married, she was clueless in the kitchen. So when she started getting the inevitable requests to cook meals for new mothers, she began to feel anxious and inadequate. “I’d look at what other people were doing — three courses, soup, salad, and dessert, and feel so intimidated. I couldn’t manage that kind of meal for my own family.”

Comparing herself to others made her want to stop doing the chesed, but she persevered. Eventually, as her culinary proficiency improved, the resentment began to dissipate.

Several years later, as she stood at her stove six weeks postpartum preparing supper for another family, the irony struck her. She’d come full circle.

Most of us are like Chumi. Comparing ourselves and our accomplishments (or lack thereof) to other women is practically woven into the fiber of our nature. But what purpose does this serve? Why do we do this to ourselves — and how can we stop?

Why We Compare

“I think it’s safe to say that this is part of our DNA,” says Baltimore-based psychologist Dr. Aviva Weisbord. “Going all the way back to Chava, Rashi mentions this middah in Bereishis (3:6). As soon as Chava ate from the Eitz Hadaas, she made sure Adam ate it too. And Rashi says she made sure he would eat it too, because she was afraid that she would die and he would marry someone else. So right from the start, Woman was worried that someone would have more than she does.”

While the phenomenon has existed since the dawn of time, social comparison theory first became a formal field of study in 1954. Since then, scientists have continued to broaden and deepen our understanding of this basic but vexing human tendency.

At its root, comparisons are designed to supply us with information about ourselves, explains Susan Fiske, professor of psychology at Princeton University, in her book Envy Up, Scorn Down. A teenager who finds herself surrounded by friends but in the bottom ten percent of her class in math might correctly conclude that she’s more suited for a career in sales than in accounting. This information can yield insight about our own abilities, as well as supply us with data to help us make predictions: Am I likely to get into the seminary of my choice? Can I expect a bonus this year?

In addition to helping us evaluate ourselves, comparisons help us fit comfortably into the larger group. Take Devorah, who didn’t grow up frum but is now raising her family in a yeshivish community. She hasn’t yet absorbed all the unspoken rules that govern frum life, so a quick check of what her neighbors are doing yields valuable pointers, from “Are my kids at an age that they should daven before going out to play?” to “Is it chilly enough to wear black tights now?”

And finally, comparisons can protect our fragile egos — sometimes. While comparisons are famous for making people feel awful, that’s not the whole story. As Fiske’s pithily titled book demonstrates, aside from being jealous of people above us (the envy up), we tend to scorn down, or compare ourselves favorably to anyone we perceive as lower on the totem pole. And there tend to be a remarkably large number of people below us.

We consistently fool ourselves, explains Professor Fiske, by awarding ourselves unjustifiably high marks in the comparison contest, rating ourselves as more capable and likeable than average, as well as less likely to suffer from negative events.

The Cost of Comparison

While comparison may be handy for gathering information quickly, it comes with some serious risks.

At the most basic, tangible level, comparison creates a material need that must be filled. Sheryl, who runs a used-clothing gemach, decries the effects of brand-name comparisons in her community. She sees families racking up thousands of dollars of debt in frum clothing stores, because teenagers constantly judge themselves according to their peers and feel a strong need to dress just like their friends.