OK, I’d like to back up and explain the hair more clearly.

I turned 39 on Thanksgiving.

And I’ve got this thing happening. I’m feeling 27. So when I look in the mirror and see the opposite of 27, I get confused.
My face is not 27. But my brain tells me I am. It’s awfully befuddling.

So I’m trying to get my face to agree with my brain. I’ve slathered on more L’Oreal Revitalift than I care to disclose, bought long dangly earrings to distract from the wrinkles, and begun face exercises.

I even briefly flirted with the idea of using industrial-strength tape to pull the sides of my face back to the position of 27-year-old me.

Of course, I could eat right, take supplements and do yoga, but that’s so not 27 years old.

So I cut my hair (all of them). I guess I figured if I changed my hair style, I’d break rank with the 27-year-old phantom Debbie and become an assured 39-year-old Debbie.

But it backfired. The dang hair’s so short, now everyone’s gonna see my tape.