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Don't call me 'ma'am'
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I’m getting old, which is a realization that hit me like a sack of bricks when my husband John and I went to the movies recently. “Excuse me ma’am, will you pretend to be my aunt so that they’ll let me into the movie theater?” a teenager, who had apparently left his ID at home, asked me. Being called “ma’am” by anyone older than 13 years old is enough to make me cringe, but just knowing that someone thinks that I look old enough to be a high school kid’s aunt was a swift kick to my ego.