It's my favorite compliment, a simple phrase that makes me stand a little taller all day long: "You look like your mom." My mother, in my eyes, is one of the most genetically blessed women I've ever seen, but I don't flatter myself by thinking that I am a carbon-copy of my mother (I've certainly inherited enough traits from my father to even the scorecard). Still, the mention of resemblance makes me proud, as if it's proof that, no matter our differences or how complicated our relationship, I am my mother's daughter.
On Huffington Post, Dr. Peggy Drexler explores the complexities of the evolving mother-daughter relationship, arguing that the trend towards mom and daughter friendships is a threat to the traditional hierarchy of mother as an authority figure. The mother-daughter relationship, she argues, is singular, and adding friendship to the mix complicates an already exceedingly fraught dynamic. But the thing is: I tell my mom (almost) everything and receive (almost) no judgment in return. If I can't call her a friend, then what is friendship?