Do you look at other people’s lives and compare them to your own? Does this make you question whether you are smart, fit or happy enough?

If so, then you may be a perfectionist. Writing for the Guardian earlier this year, clinical psychologist Linda Blair described a perfectionist as a person: “who strives for flawlessness, for a perfect creation, outcome or performance ... They find it difficult to delegate, even if that means neglecting their health, relationships and wellbeing in pursuit of a ‘perfect’ outcome.”

According to some studies, this is something that largely affects women. A US survey in 2009 found that women are also more likely than men to experience feelings of inadequacy at home and at work, and a larger proportion felt they failed to meet their own high standards.

These insecurities are well-documented in the world of work: in 2011, the Institute of Leadership and Management found half of female managers, compared with fewer than a third of the male ones, reported self-doubt in their performance. An internal survey of women working at Hewlett-Packard also found women applied for a promotion only when they met 100% of the qualifications. Men applied when they met just 50%.



The desire to be perfect seems to influence thinking from a young age: research by Girlguiding UK found that a quarter of seven- to 10-year-old girls felt the need to be perfect.

Perfectionism can have serious implications: it’s been linked to anxiety and depression, and the health and happiness of young women is a growing concern. In fact a NHS study found 28.2% of 16- to 24-year-olds have a mental health condition, with one in four women aged 16 to 24 experiencing anxiety, depression, panic disorder, phobia or obsessive compulsive disorder.

We decided to explore this topic with our readers, asking for young women’s experiences and stories of perfectionism. We received 134 responses – with an average age of 25. For a lot of young women who contacted us, body image was a huge preoccupation and many said they felt undervalued unless they met society’s expectations of beauty. The pressure to be perfect also extended to the workplace, withmany respondents talking about feeling inadequate at their jobs or experiencing impostor syndrome. They also complained of feeling the pressure to have it all: juggling being a mother with career and other personal pressures.

Social media has a big role to play in influencing women’s outlook on this issue. Miranda, 18, from Cambridge summed this up: “I certainly feel the pressure to be perfect and it has got to the point where it’s damaging my health. Social media is the main culprit. I had to delete my Instagram account because it would actually make me cry. I am a mature person with a firm grip on reality, but I have so many peers whose lives seem so perfect and sociable that it left me feeling worthless and lonely.”



The impact of all this pressure on women’s mental health and wellbeing was notable, with many experiencing anxiety, eating disorders and depression. We approached five women to find out more. Here are their stories:

Chardine Taylor-Stone, 31, who works in the arts in London

‘The pressure to be perfect feels heightened to me as a black woman.’ Photograph: Sarah Lee/The Guardian

As a child I felt pressure to be a certain kind of perfect, so I wanted to look pretty and nice while my male cousins were running riot, that sort of nonsense. I wanted to marry a man and get a job. Now I am an adult my aspirations have changed and I am a lot more confident about who I am. I’ve broken out of those narrow expectations, but I still feel a lot of pressure in terms of my career.

I am one of few black working-class women in my industry, which is dominated by white men. Most of the black women I see in the arts are personal assistants; none of them are working in a position that gives them autonomy – although they usually end up running a lot of things anyway.

I definitely have impostor syndrome; that’s defined as self-doubt and a sense of intellectual fraudulence that overrides any feelings of success. I didn’t have this so much before, when I was working in call centres, but I feel it now in a predominantly upper-middle-class environment. It’s weird being the only person of colour or the only one with a certain accent – it makes you feel as though you shouldn’t be there. I sometimes suffer so much anxiety about sending an email, worrying about whether I will phrase it correctly. It’s silly because I’ve done well and proven myself, I have my own flat and a good job, yet that doesn’t feel good enough.

The pressure to be perfect feels heightened to me as a black woman because my mum always told me I would have to work harder than a white person to get ahead. It is true but it’s a self-defeating aspiration.

Perfection, or what society deems perfect, is not attainable for everyone, but it feels even further away for a woman of colour. The image of perfection is a certain physical type: a skinny woman with blond hair etc. Those things are not even half attainable to you, and you sometimes feel you were born imperfect.

Salma Al-Hassan, 18, student at Warwick University, from Oxford

‘I wish I could be more relaxed about how I look.’

I feel the need to look perfect all the time. I am not sure where this obsession comes from but social media definitely makes it worse.

I got Instagram when I was 14 and growing up with it has really affected me. I spend ages scrolling through the site and seeing images of women with perfect hair and makeup, thinking I should look like them – even though a lot of the time the pictures have been altered. I have always felt self-conscious about my hair because it wasn’t long and straight like the girls I saw online. I would see all my friends with their silky long hair, so easy to brush, and think: “I want that.” I got hair extensions to make my hair longer, which cost a lot but now I am trying to love my natural afro hair again. I want to embrace my natural curl.

Social media also brings the pressure of getting lots of likes; a lot of people post at “prime time”, which is about 5pm, when everyone is online. I know friends who will say: “If I don’t get 40 likes I am deleting the picture.” I’m not majorly worried about this, although I have deleted photos before, but afterwards thought: “That was stupid and I shouldn’t care what other people think.”

Another source of pressure for me, personally, comes from the fact that the media has become obsessed with a particular aesthetic for mixed-race and black women. We are only deemed attractive if we have tiny waists and large hips and lips. Over the past few months I have started to become very self-conscious about my lips, which are not as full and beautiful as other black women’s. I don’t have plans to get plastic surgery, but if I did get anything done it would be lip fillers because it just seems to be a fashion thing now – lot of celebrities get it done.

I wish I could be more relaxed about how I look: I am getting better gradually but I still always try to look good, and always put on makeup. While nowadays there is definitely a much more diverse idea of what beauty is, there are still stupid stereotypes which people are stuck in, myself included. There is still a long way to go for women to accept themselves for who they are.

Anna Robertshaw, 37, a yoga teacher from Tunbridge Wells



‘From the outside my life looked great, but inside I was struggling.’

My early 20s were a bit of a whirl. I got pregnant with my eldest at 23, which was wonderful; at the time I was still together with my husband, who was my childhood sweetheart. After our son was born we set up home in Tunbridge Wells and I quit my job to become a full-time mother. My husband had a wonderful and well-paid job and so we moved into a beautiful home, and it wasn’t long before my second son came along. Then, when he was five months old, I got pregnant with my third boy.

From the outside my life looked great, but inside I was struggling. I felt a lot of pressure to be a perfect mum, and this got worse when my boys started school. I couldn’t help but compare myself to other mothers, and to think their children were really polite and wellbehaved. I felt lost and had no confidence in my ability to raise my boys in a way that was right for me.

Depression and anxiety came on thick and fast. I was prescribed antidepressants, but I soon realised they were not for me. I remember sitting out in the garden, feeling so detached from my boys. It was like I was looking at them through a screen. I stopped medication and sought other means of help, eventually finding homeopathy and yoga.

My life took a different course after this, and I separated from my husband. Part of my recovery was letting things go, and starting to take charge of my life and think about what was right for me. For so long, I had fitted into everyone else’s idea of who I should be, and I was so afraid of breaking that image, but it was making me miserable.

With age comes wisdom and now I am happy with my new partner and my life in general. I am much less harsh on myself and have realised everything cannot be perfect all the time.

The biggest lesson for me, in terms of losing the urge to try to be perfect, was becoming a mum: it taught me that it’s not all about me, it’s all about them. Kids have their own views and sometimes speak more truth than grownups. They also taught me that I couldn’t possibly maintain a tidy, clean house all the time and neither could I maintain my body shape or appearance because of the effect being pregnant for years has had on them.

My advice to young people today would be to find a hobby or passion that brings you joy and don’t compare yourself to others. Sometimes it’s our biggest failures that teach us the most valuable lessons and letting things fall apart isn’t the end of the world – it’s a chance to rebuild it.

Lotta Sampson-Stone, 22, a student and single mother from Plymouth



‘Being a mum, in particular, is a lot of pressure.’

I am quite critical of myself as a single parent. I am conscious of trying to portray myself online and to family as the perfect mother and now I am at university I also want to be a perfect student. It can be hard to juggle everything.

I moved to Plymouth from Lancashire for university last year and have been desperate to make it work, but it’s hard. I worry that I’ve not spent enough time with my daughter and too much time in the library, or that I’ve spent too much time with her and not enough time socialising.

Being a mum, in particular, is a lot of pressure. On Facebook I see mothers saying: “I baked with my boy today and we made pasta necklaces.” When you’ve just plonked your kid in front of the telly it makes you think: “Should I be doing that?” But it’s hard to be a full-time student, single parent and do baking and arts and crafts activities as well.

I made a conscious decision only very recently to limit time spent on social media. I did not want it to impact on how I viewed my life with my daughter and what I could and could not provide for her. The best thing I can give her is a mum who’s totally happy and present in the here and now – she doesn’t care that her mum isn’t a size six or that the flat gets cluttered..

I hope my daughter won’t grow up as insecure as me. I hope she never negatively compares herself to others and that if she recognises differences she embraces them and does not feel they make her less of a mother, student, woman or human being.

Kate Goodrum, 18, a student at Cambridge University, from London



‘One thing I have learned is that being perfect doesn’t always make you happy.’

Even as a girl I always had a perfectionist streak. While other children went out and got cheerfully muddy I would be held back by a fear of looking scruffy, and even in primary school I worried about not getting good grades.



So the drive for perfection was always there, but as I got older it took hold in a more negative way and led to an eating disorder. I became very critical of how I looked, to the point where my body mass index got really low and I was told by doctors that I wouldn’t be able to sit my GCSEs if my health didn’t improve.

This was so hard to take because I’ve always striven for perfection, academic as well as physical. In fact, it was the wake-up call I needed and I went for treatment. By the time my A-levels came around I’d put on weight and was much better physically, but there were still underlying issues and insecurities.

Eating disorders never really go away, and even four years later, although I’m much better, I still compare myself to others and feel bad about how I look, thinking I am too fat or not tall enough and I don’t have abs.





I have sort of come to terms with the fact that being a perfectionist is part of my personality. I’m never content with anything I have achieved. I got into Cambridge University last year and while I am excited about starting I am also worried about the workload. I hate not being the best at everything and I worry I will be the dumb one there as other people will be so clever and multi-talented. I am worried I won’t be able to keep up.

Despite this, all I’ve experienced has taught me to try to be less harsh on myself. One thing I have learned is that being perfect doesn’t always make you happy. You can have a great body and do well in exams but it doesn’t solve all your problems – even my response to getting into Cambridge has made me see that.

In my mind the perfect woman is successful, happy and not stressed. Someone with a good social life and lots of friends. I suppose someone who has everything really, but then the older I get the more I realise that this ideal probably doesn’t exist. Maybe it’s time we stopped striving for something else and started celebrating what we have now.

