This article is a thought experiment based entirely on personal experience and observations.
A few years ago, I had long, thick hair. I used the same shampoo for many years and never experienced any hair loss or damage. That is, until my mother forced me to change my shampoo, at which point my hair structure completely deteriorated. It was no longer as thick as before, it wasn't growing as fast as it used to; it was falling out a lot and becoming sparse. For a few years, I tried different shampoos to combat this, even sought advice from a few people in the dermocosmetic industry, but to no avail—my hair was completely ruined. I wasn't bald yet, but it was already on its way.
However, a thought occurred to me recently:
How significant was shampoo in the 11,000-year history of humanity, and did human hair really need shampoo? Hair would get dirty, hair would get oily, but a little warm water could handle that. Why should I put a ton of chemicals on my head unless a bird pooped on it? My hair was already in bad enough shape; what's the worst that could happen if I didn't use shampoo on it?
It's been a week since I last washed my hair with shampoo, and the results are incredible. My hair is still shedding a little, but it's starting to resemble its former thick state again, it's wavy once more, and the layers in my hair are incredibly defined. Every time I look in the mirror, I think about how this gamble paid off!
So, is this really about human history and shampoos? The short answer is no, but I’ll start explaining the long answer and the reasons behind it now.
When I first thought of this idea, I even laughed at myself, but then it started to bother me. Why not? All I had to do was not use shampoo on my hair once or twice; it was a very simple experiment. If the result of this experiment was negative, meaning my hair got worse, I would continue using the shampoo I was using and accept my fate; if it was positive, I would see what happened then. The result was quite good; I would no longer use shampoo unless a bird pooped on my hair. Of course, there was some anxiety about not being able to foresee the outcome of the positive possibility, but taking that risk gave me a certain confidence at some point:
The excitement of being able to ask questions whose outcomes I couldn't foresee and finding answers that, even if negative, offered a perspective outside the mainstream.
This confidence wasn't just something internal; it was starting to manifest in my outward differences. The thought of 'what if it happens' or 'what if it doesn't' was in my head, and the ideas created incredible excitement in me. Even if I could predict the outcome, I developed a desire to see the answer with my own eyes. Whether my prediction was right or wrong, trying the other option and seeing what it could bring me began to cause incredible storms within me. My clear answer to questions like "What if this happened?" became "We won't know until we try."
Expectations for answers didn't have to come only through events; people's answers were also a guessing game. The biggest difference this self-confidence created was the desire to be able to ask people questions without hesitation, to be able to get their opinions without hesitation. I would ask my question, if they made fun of me, I would laugh it off, if they took it seriously, I would pursue it, but both were positive or negative answers. I knew what path to take based on the results. And the desire to apply this to every question fuelled my curiosity. But I had to limit myself at some point so that this excitement didn't fade too quickly. Obviously, I couldn't bombard people with questions!
I witnessed how a question that initially sounded ridiculous, like "What if I didn't use shampoo?", has significantly changed my way of thinking today. I suppose there's no need to wait for a big moment for big changes; even the simplest question can lead to the most complex answer.
To a lesser extent, the same reasoning works for using soap on your body as well as deodorant. You may need it less often than you think. Your skin might thank you.
This article is a thought experiment based entirely on personal experience and observations.
A few years ago, I had long, thick hair. I used the same shampoo for many years and never experienced any hair loss or damage. That is, until my mother forced me to change my shampoo, at which point my hair structure completely deteriorated. It was no longer as thick as before, it wasn't growing as fast as it used to; it was falling out a lot and becoming sparse. For a few years, I tried different shampoos to combat this, even sought advice from a few people in the dermocosmetic industry, but to no avail—my hair was completely ruined. I wasn't bald yet, but it was already on its way.
However, a thought occurred to me recently:
It's been a week since I last washed my hair with shampoo, and the results are incredible. My hair is still shedding a little, but it's starting to resemble its former thick state again, it's wavy once more, and the layers in my hair are incredibly defined. Every time I look in the mirror, I think about how this gamble paid off!
So, is this really about human history and shampoos? The short answer is no, but I’ll start explaining the long answer and the reasons behind it now.
When I first thought of this idea, I even laughed at myself, but then it started to bother me. Why not? All I had to do was not use shampoo on my hair once or twice; it was a very simple experiment. If the result of this experiment was negative, meaning my hair got worse, I would continue using the shampoo I was using and accept my fate; if it was positive, I would see what happened then. The result was quite good; I would no longer use shampoo unless a bird pooped on my hair. Of course, there was some anxiety about not being able to foresee the outcome of the positive possibility, but taking that risk gave me a certain confidence at some point:
This confidence wasn't just something internal; it was starting to manifest in my outward differences. The thought of 'what if it happens' or 'what if it doesn't' was in my head, and the ideas created incredible excitement in me. Even if I could predict the outcome, I developed a desire to see the answer with my own eyes. Whether my prediction was right or wrong, trying the other option and seeing what it could bring me began to cause incredible storms within me. My clear answer to questions like "What if this happened?" became "We won't know until we try."
Expectations for answers didn't have to come only through events; people's answers were also a guessing game. The biggest difference this self-confidence created was the desire to be able to ask people questions without hesitation, to be able to get their opinions without hesitation. I would ask my question, if they made fun of me, I would laugh it off, if they took it seriously, I would pursue it, but both were positive or negative answers. I knew what path to take based on the results. And the desire to apply this to every question fuelled my curiosity. But I had to limit myself at some point so that this excitement didn't fade too quickly. Obviously, I couldn't bombard people with questions!
I witnessed how a question that initially sounded ridiculous, like "What if I didn't use shampoo?", has significantly changed my way of thinking today. I suppose there's no need to wait for a big moment for big changes; even the simplest question can lead to the most complex answer.