It pains me to be two-faced, but I’m not who I appear to be. The impostor photo next to my column isn’t a true representation of who I am today. I haven’t looked that clean-cut and respectable in nigh upon two years. I haven’t even had a trim over that span, so even in a suit, no one would mistake me for a Mormon missionary.

I’m not sure why I’ve allowed my hair to grow to an all-time long. Maybe it’s residue from the well-intentioned but poorly-executed, free haircut a friend cajoled me into in early ’10. That “free” soon got real pricey with two reparation trims to lessen the damage. She and I can laugh about it now, but for a while, when I’d hear her introduce herself as a photographer, I’d say with an unforgiving tone, “Well, she sure as hell ain’t no beautician.”

But more than anything, I think my extended barber sabbatical is a state of mind. Over the years, when my hair has gotten particularly shaggy, I’ve explained that hair is something I hide behind when I’m feeling unsocial or discontentment.

At my nephew Jay’s roofing office last year, his wife Cindy studied me curiously before asking, “Why don’t you cut your hair short like you did a few years ago? It looked really good then.”

I articulated my theory about how my hair often reflects how I’m feeling inside at the time. With a sad, concerned expression, she deadpanned, “Man, you must really feel like crap!”

A huge fan of the snappy comeback, I was not offended, but hair beauty is in the eyes of the beholder and I’ve always loved long hair on man, woman or beast. And except for my thinning front — which leaves me constantly fearing a sudden, rogue wind — I like my long, bedraggled hair. Apparently, I’m one of the few that do.

Looking at old photographs though, I realize the ’80s and ’90s were my head’s best days. And I had long-accepted that there was no going back, until I read this blurb in the newspaper: “Mullet Power: Attention style-watchers. Keep an eye on men’s hair trends this summer. And if a certain 1980s-era coif makes it way back into fashion, you’ll know who to blame.

“‘What, the greasy mullet?’ the British actor Tom Hiddleston said with a laugh. ‘I suppose it could come back, thanks to our little movie.’ That ‘little movie’ is Marvel’s: The Avengers. And Hiddleston — as Loki, the otherworldly villain it takes Captain America, Iron Man, The Hulk, Thor and many others to bring to heel — sports one of the greatest mullets ever seen on a Brit.”

Well, color me giddy. The song that comes to mind is “Happy days are here again,” and I’m singing it from the rooftops. For those unfamiliar with this sexy but misunderstood hairstyle, rent the movie “Joe Dirt” with David Spade. He sports a stunning mullet, which is commonly described as “business in front; party in the back.”

That phrase simply describes the front and sides of a mullet as short and casual, not unlike a typical computer programmer or advertising executive. A Mulleteer walking towards you belies the free-spirited, non-conformist within. But sneak around to his rear and you’ll see long, flowing locks often gloriously reaching mid-back.

Now you realize this is no architect. This might be a rock star, or a hip magician. Or, if it’s in Cody in the near future, it might just be an aging roofer who appears to be walking on air, just happy to be whom he really is again.

Yes, the news of the potential mullet resurrection has given me the courage to quite possibly visit my old stylist Monica real soon. I’ll simply say, “You know what to do.” She’ll try to talk me out of it, but I won’t budge.

I did courageously cling to my mullet — in the face of much ridicule — longer than most. Some thought me an oddball — “mulladjusted,” even — when I stayed mullet-loyal well into this century. But eventually, I gutlessly caved to public opinion that said, “Change with the times.”

Well the heck with the times; it’s high time to return to my true roots.

I can dig the T-shirt my niece Amber gave me years ago out of the drawer, dust it off and wear it proudly. On the front, it says “Head of the Mullitia,” and on the back, “M.I.A. — Mullet in Action.” The Mullitia will rise again, and we’ll be stronger and handsomer than ever. And this time when they inevitably say, “You look ridiculous,” I’ll grin and say, “Yeah, ridiculous like a fox!”