This morning as I comb out the bird’s nest that was once my Barbie locks and iron the nipped-in Mad Men dress I’m wearing on today’s show, I’m laughing, I really am. While out at the beach for a few weeks, I only washed my hair once, I never shaved anything, I didn’t put on deodorant, I never even brushed my hair. (My bun got more “bee-hivey” each day.) Sure, I brushed my teeth and took showers; hot water and clean teeth are wonderful. But I rarely put on lipstick–let alone clothes with a waist or, G-d forbid, a bra. It turns out that, at this ripe old age, a true vacation entails zero grooming or dolling up. I have reverted to my nine-year-old self–that tomboy in a smock dress and Converse sneakers–and it is glorious.