I am one of the Great Unwashed!
A few years ago, about a year after I fell into ancestral eating, I was thinking about animals in the wild. They all wear sleek, sumptuous furry coats, coats that never carry a coat of grease or need a swipe of deodorant. Animals in nature know how to clean themselves by preening, by dips in fresh water. Why should I be different?
I chucked the soaps and cosmetics and decided to go thirty days without, just for laughs. I can experiment in these ways perhaps easier than most as I am a poet and people expect me to be gross and smelly.
The transition took several months, to be honest. My hair, which extends to my tailbone and is thus considered Damn Long, morphed from Breck Gal with bouncy waves and silicon-enhanced shine to Get-Outta-Town Gal with clumps of sebum-crusted tresses. Not my finest moment, y'all.
I did a procedure called "preening," where I moved my natural oils down the length of my hair using my fingers. I was as careful as a resting cat, as my companion parrot. One small sector of hair at a time. Weeks passed and my hair started looking soft, shiny, full of body, wonderfully REAL. It didn't have the shimmer and bounce of my Breck (and Aveda, let's be honest, I am a Hair 'Ho) days, but it had an integrity.
The rest of my body followed suit. I moved from a perfumed and pampered middle-aged mom to a wild and self-scented Amazon, with long, wild hair, and a Paleo curvy body to match.
Watch out world!
(Yea, this was scientific as shit. I know, I know. But I think you should TRY it. What's the worst thing that will happen? People will just call you a poet.)