Each week, exclusively for Slate Plus members, Prudie discusses a new letter with a fellow Slate colleague. Have a question for Prudie? Submit it here.

Dear Prudence,

My best friend and I are both single, child-free women in our forties. In fact, she’s about a year younger than I am. When we were in our twenties and early thirties, we were often mistaken for a lesbian couple when we’d go out to eat, shopping, or various other places together. This never bothered either of us. However, as the years have gone by, the differences in both our genetics and lifestyle, self-care, and style choices have grown more pronounced, and people are now more likely to mistake us for mother and daughter. My friend (the supposed “mother”) gets extremely irate whenever this happens. Several times, she’s made an embarrassing scene, and regardless is always put in a foul mood that ruins the rest of the day. How can I convince her to just let this go, with no more than a quick, polite correction: “No, we’re just friends,” no need to mention our ages?

—Not Her Daughter

Jenée Desmond-Harris: First of all, I know people always say high school education should cover stuff like how to do your taxes, but I also think maybe it could include a course—or at least a unit in a larger course on how to not cause people unnecessary distress—on how to keep your opinions about strangers’ appearances to yourself. Especially things that could be hurtful or are based on assumptions that could be hurtful if they’re incorrect. Don’t ask “Are you pregnant?” (This has happened to me! It wasn’t a lot of fun!). Don’t ask “Is the small child with you your grandchild?” and don’t ask “Are you mother and daughter?” Evidently people need some explicit instructions in this area.

Lizzie O’Leary: I am … sitting with this question a lot because right now I am running through the emotional responses I would have if I was either one of these people! Jeez Louise, strangers, keep your mouths closed! I have a few thoughts, but I think it matters how honest these friends are with one another. The LW says “best friends,” but there are besties whose feelings you protect, and besties you level with. Which do you think this is?

Jenée: Ummm given the frequent irate emotional outbursts and bad moods that last all day when the friend hears something she doesn’t like, I’m definitely going with “best friend whose feelings you protect” / “best friend who needs everything to be sugar coated to protect her feelings.” This is not a person who handles perceived criticism very well.

Lizzie: Very true! So maybe this is an indirect bank shot situation. One way to do that would be what the LW has done, which is to calmly but firmly stick with “We’re friends, thanks.” And gently say to her friend, “Hey, people are dopes. Don’t sweat it.” And maintain calm emotional co-regulation, like you do with a toddler losing their mind. But the other way might be a softly-softly “I see that really bugs you. Do you want to tell me about it?” It opens up a door, and maybe it’s one the friend doesn’t want to walk through, but it gives her a quiet chance.

Jenée: Okay, so I thought you were going to go even further and suggest saying “You’re a beautiful woman and the fact that people keep asking if you’re my mom isn’t about that. It’s just that a few things about your appearance are sending a signal that you’re older. The grey hair and the sweaters with crochet flowers on them are things people typically associate with people who have at least a decade on us, and so they’re jumping to conclusions.” I already know this won’t work because of what I said about the friend’s sensitivity. It’s so tempting though! I mean if she really is upset as being perceived as older, solving the underlying problem could really help!

I also have a more unhinged idea: Plant a person, like your friendly local barista, and ask them to do you a favor and ask if she’s your daughter the next time you show up at the coffee shop together. Am I on to something here?

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Lizzie: Oh man you are SO much better at this stuff than I am. I am always like “How can I have a direct conversation about this thing??” Which, uh, sometimes backfires. I think you can totally do that if the person is smooth. It could go sideways, in which it might be worse, though? You don’t want to be hilariously called out for having planted a barista. I’m sorry, this is making me laugh, in a sort of rom-com way. It feels like a great plot point. But honestly, I really like your first idea. It’s a little honest and a little “Oh the dumb patriarchy.”

Jenée: Right, and I obviously wouldn’t suggest mentioning things like “Your skin looks completely parched” or “The shape of your stomach has changed due to perimenopause.” We want to stick to issues that have easy fixes! Either way, I do think a little white lie—whether in the form of calculated, softened feedback or hiring an actor, whatever!—is okay to take care of a friend’s feelings.

Lizzie: Please don’t get me started on perimenopause tummies. I am very pro big pants right now. White lie it is! [gavel!]

Jenée: And you can send me some of the links for those pants.