Ditching Shampoo and Never Going Back

It took over 50 years of bad hair days and keep-it-short avoiding them to make me realize that they had been caused by …? You guessed it, my care habits! And grandma had told me the secret. I hadn’t listened. She was a seamstress, what did she know about hair? Well, turns out she didn’t need loads of knowledge, she had it right.

I was a teenager during the 1980s HUGE hair craze. The torture my poor hair endured during those years, what was I thinking? What were any of us thinking?

Every morning, the ritual went something like this; shower, shampoo – repeat, condition – wait a minute or two to allow for optimal absorption, all of this under suitably scorching water. My body had its own ceremony, but that is for another day.

Next, came the, *cringe*, essential 2-hour hair-sculpting procedure that involved a variety of tools and sprays, mousses, and gels deemed indispensable to hold it all up. If I remember correctly, the routine went something like this

Massage gel/mousse into wet hair

If you wanted the sleek look that’s where it stopped, but of course, that wasn’t what I wanted… because you know, I wasn’t that cool! And that style was mostly for boys. And I wasn’t one of those, yuck! Ah, to be 14 again! LOL

So, I did all the other stuff too.

Dry at hottest heat with a diffuser

Spray a ton of hairspray over it

Curl or straighten with your iron

Add hairspray – lots of it

Tease the hell out of every strand you can find

Keep curling – straightening as needed

Lift with a long-pick-tooth comb, spray

Lift-spray here, lift-spray there, and again

Pat, pat, pat it all down but not too much

Oh, and you had better get dressed before you do all of that because there is no way you want anything going over that head now! It is G-O-R-G-E-O-U-S! And it will last all of 2 hours if you are me. If it’s an astoundingly lucky day, it may last 3 or 3 and a half hours. Every day, you cross your fingers and hope it’s one of those lucky days today. Off to school I went, hoping against hope that there was no humidity, or wind, or snow, or … weather really, and people standing too close in the bus. I hoped there would be no weather after all that work had been put into creating the masterpiece on my head.

Just to keep you in the loop, my hair was and still is, terminally straight; no wave, no curl, no body. It was limp and often reacted with embarrassing excitement to static electricity. Still does for that matter, and it’s no problem now, but in the 80s, it was criminal to have limp, straight hair.

By 1993, my hair had developed a serious and convincing straw impersonation needing impressive layers of mousse and gel to masquerade as a coiffure effectively. My answer? I shaved my head. Yes, you read that right! I. shaved. My. Head. Left only an inch, and kept it that way for the whole decade, or at least the second half of it. It was wondrous, wonderful, and so much fun. So, so much fun!

However, to keep it that short, it’s a monthly visit to the salon. And yes, you are right, I really went to the barber, it was half the price, and I had less hair than most men.

For a year or two, I changed its color every month as well; blue, red, orange, chestnut, etc. I mean, why not? I was going to shave it off in a few weeks, and my hair, for some strange reason, always grew brown with copper highlights; at least, under the right sun ;-). Though I never did go blond, it just didn’t feel like me.

I kept the mousse, the gel, and the dyes, and, without regret, gave up my multiple curling irons, hairspray, blow dryer, and perms. … It was LIBERATING! And I do mean it that emphatically. I barely needed a comb, much less the dozens of brushes I had accumulated. All the paraphernalia that came with long hair; clips, elastics, headbands, also were unnecessary now. It was wonderful, wondrous, and so easy. So very, very easy.

As a bonus I didn’t need to wash my hair so zealously- shampoo twice, condition for 2 minutes- every single day anymore. I could shampoo once and didn’t need conditioner. Since I didn’t cook the mousse and gel into my hair anymore, it simply sat there until I wet it thoroughly. I had reduced my costs dramatically when I had cropped my hair. It was wondrous, wonderful, and so economical. So very, very economical.

By the time I was in my 30s, I figured I could let it grow, somewhat. I was reluctant but the children were growing, and I was a single mom now. What was acceptable in my late 20s in entry-level jobs was not so well received any longer as I was gaining experience. And no, don’t even think it! I did not go back to my teenage obsession with long, curly hair.

I chose a gamine look for the turn of the century and kept it for the turn of the millennium. And another few years beyond. Another look that was easy upkeep. I had become quite a lazy stylist.

What I hadn’t noticed about my hair when it was longer and being tortured, nor when it was being shorn to a stub repeatedly, I had cowlicks; 3 of them. Yes, 3. It couldn’t be just one in the center of skull, like so many other people. No, there had to be one on either side of my forehead as well.

That discovery kicked off another love-hate relationship with accouterments and products that were designed, guaranteed to tame, or at least, disguise this state of affairs; but seldom did as promised. I started going back to the salon, buying more and more expensive shampoos and conditioners, gels, mousses, and whatnots. Who can remember now?

Of course, my hairdryer and its diffuser became necessities that I was happy I had kept in a box somewhere through the years.

By now, you may be wondering what does this all have to do with ditching shampoo, and other chemicals, altogether? I just figured you might be interested in knowing the whole sordid background.

I am now in my 50s and have never had more beautiful hair. It is still straight, white streaks have found their way among the browns and reds, but it has BODY! Yes, it has BODY! I can’t believe it. All those years of doing everything the experts told me to do had only made my hair into a lifeless mop, a straw hat, a heap of hay, a… Well, you get the meaning.

Here’s the secret! A FINE-TOOTH comb. That’s all you need. Your grandma was right. Comb your hair twice daily from your scalp to the tips. This spreads the sebum all along the hair and gives it body, strength, and protection from the elements. It feeds your hair. You will lose less of it to your brush and cosmetic products. This goes for every person with hair.

Before Covid, my hair didn’t go past my chin. It has grown down to the middle of my back and is still growing with no split ends and so few knots as to make it unworthy of mention. To anyone losing their hair, having problems managing them, or finding them lifeless, STOP using chemicals.

Admittedly, the first 3 weeks are tough; really, really tough. Your hair will get greasy, and no one likes that look, but you haven’t allowed it to do its thing for so long that when you finally do, it will be ecstatic and will overproduce, just in case you change your mind. But don’t do it, stick with it. Within a month, you will be pleasantly surprised and within 2, you will wonder why you didn’t do it sooner.

In conclusion, listen to grandma – or it might be great-grandma for some – she knew best. Combing your hair 100 strokes, twice a day, will remove the dead skin from your scalp, spread your natural, protective oils, and keep your whole head of hair clean and shiny. You'll find keeping your comb clean to be the hardest part.