i've heard that washing it too much and thoroughly washes away the essential nutrients and oils in your hair, causing it to become dry. however, the problem with this is that i play soccer almost daily and feel that if i don't wash my hair on a regularly, my hair is just greasy and gross, potentially causing breakouts. input?
how is this remotely close to being a troll? google the negative effects of shampoo, if you wash it daily youre going to rid your hair of the protein
Lmao at your username, brah. I have no clue about the hair thing, but I hoop errday, so I'm definitely gonna wash it daily and so far, so good for me, brah, don't worry too much about it.
Believe it or not his question is a legit one for a lot of people. However, as I am not of the female persuasion, I don't "wash my hair." I do however take a shower in an effort to clean myself and keep myself smelling fresh. During this process I do use shampoo and water to keep my hair fresh.
You don't need advice. Here instead is a beautiful story. <iframe width="420" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/aObYVf9tKFA?rel=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>
I wash every 3 weeks.. And I play soccer.. And I put product in my hair.. (just realized how gross I am when writing this)
I can see how that may be the case. I don't wash my hair every day. Gets too flaky and dry. The oil portion of your comment makes sense. In conclusion, no, I do not.
When you say you don't wash your hair everyday, do you not get it wet while in the shower or don't put shampoo in your hair?
It all started when our hero, Sausage Massage, woke up in a bush. It was the tenth time it had happened. Feeling ridiculously pleased, Sausage Massage slapped a wolverine, thinking it would make him feel better (but as usual, it did not). Like a drunken sailor at happy hour, he realized that his beloved hair nutrients was missing! Immediately he called his enemy in training, Cohete Rojo. Sausage Massage had known Cohete Rojo for (plus or minus) 11,000 years, the majority of which were enchanting ones. Cohete Rojo was unique. He was clever though sometimes a little... stupid. Sausage Massage called him anyway, for the situation was urgent. Cohete Rojo picked up a very ecstatic Sausage Massage. Cohete Rojo calmly assured him that most spotted wolf hamsters cringe before mating, yet albino cats usually exotically belch *after* mating. He had no idea what that meant; he was only concerned with distracting Sausage Massage. Why was Cohete Rojo trying to distract Sausage Massage? Because he had snuck out from Sausage Massage's with the hair nutrients only nine days prior. They were curious little hair nutrients... how could he resist? It didn't take long before Sausage Massage got back to the subject at hand: his hair nutrients. Cohete Rojo shuddered. Relunctantly, Cohete Rojo invited him over, assuring him they'd find the hair nutrients. Sausage Massage grabbed his rhinocerus and disembarked immediately. After hanging up the phone, Cohete Rojo realized that he was in trouble. He had to find a place to hide the hair nutrients and he had to do it deftly. He figured that if Sausage Massage took the homemade car, he had take at least eleven minutes before Sausage Massage would get there. But if he took the Ford Festiva? Then Cohete Rojo would be excessively screwed. Before he could come up with any reasonable ideas, Cohete Rojo was interrupted by seven stupid clutchfans that were lured by his hair nutrients. Cohete Rojo sighed; 'Not again', he thought. Feeling concerned, he aptly reached for his ninja star and recklessly poked every last one of them. Apparently this was an adequate deterrent--the discouraged critters began to scurry back toward the foxy forest, squealing with discontent. He exhaled with relief. That's when he heard the Ford Festiva rolling up. It was Sausage Massage. ----o0o---- As he pulled up, he felt a sense of urgency. He had had to make an unscheduled stop at Big Lots to pick up a 12-pack of dull pencils, so he knew he was running late. With a skillful leap, Sausage Massage was out of the Ford Festiva and went flamboyantly jaunting toward Cohete Rojo's front door. Meanwhile inside, Cohete Rojo was panicking. Not thinking, he tossed the hair nutrients into a box of dull pencils and then slid the box behind his giraffe. Cohete Rojo was concerned but at least the hair nutrients was concealed. The doorbell rang. 'Come in,' Cohete Rojo explosively purred. With a inept push, Sausage Massage opened the door. 'Sorry for being late, but I was being chased by some abrasive social outcast in a spaceship,' he lied. 'It's fine,' Cohete Rojo assured him. Sausage Massage took a seat about two saucy furlongs from where Cohete Rojo had hidden the hair nutrients. Cohete Rojo belched trying unsuccessfully to hide his nervousness. 'Uhh, can I get you anything?' he blurted. But Sausage Massage was distracted. In a blinding moment of misguided bravado, Cohete Rojo noticed a insensitive look on Sausage Massage's face. Sausage Massage slowly opened his mouth to speak. '...What's that smell?' Cohete Rojo felt a stabbing pain in his shin when Sausage Massage asked this. In a moment of disbelief, he realized that he had hidden the hair nutrients right by his oscillating fan. 'Wh-what? I don't smell anything..!' A lie. A funny-smelling look started to form on Sausage Massage's face. He turned to notice a box that seemed clearly out of place. 'Th-th-those are just my grandma's ripened avocados from when she used to have pet disease-carrying chipmunks. She, uh...dropped 'em by here earlier'. Sausage Massage nodded with fake acknowledgement...then, before Cohete Rojo could react, Sausage Massage deftly lunged toward the box and opened it. The hair nutrients were plainly in view. Sausage Massage stared at Cohete Rojo for what what must've been eleven nanoseconds. Giggling like schoolgirl, Cohete Rojo groped earnestly in Sausage Massage's direction, clearly desperate. Sausage Massage grabbed the hair nutrients and bolted for the door. It was locked. Cohete Rojo let out a enchanting chuckle. 'If only you hadn't been so protective of that thing, none of this would have happened, Sausage Massage,' he rebuked. Cohete Rojo always had been a little annoying, so Sausage Massage knew that reconciliation was not an option; he needed to escape before Cohete Rojo did something crazy, like... start chucking ninja stars at him or something. With fist clenched and teeth gnashed, he gripped his hair nutrients tightly and made a dash toward the window, diving headlong through the glass panels. Cohete Rojo looked on, blankly. 'What the hell? That seemed excessive. The other door was open, you know.' Silence from Sausage Massage. 'And to think, I varnished that window frame ten days ago...it never ends!' Suddenly he felt a tinge of concern for Sausage Massage. 'Oh. You ..okay?' Still silence. Cohete Rojo walked over to the window and looked down. Sausage Massage was gone. ----o0o---- Just yonder, Sausage Massage was struggling to make his way through the imaginery desert behind Cohete Rojo's place. Sausage Massage had severely hurt his ear during the window incident, and was starting to lose strength. Another pack of feral clutchfans suddenly appeared, having caught wind of the hair nutrients. One by one they latched on to Sausage Massage. Already weakened from his injury, Sausage Massage yielded to the trollish onslaught and collapsed. The last thing he saw before losing consciousness was a buzzing horde of clutchfans running off with his hair nutrients. About six hours later, Sausage Massage awoke, his ear throbbing. It was dark and Sausage Massage did not know where he was. Deep in the broad lemur-infested moor, Sausage Massage was excessively lost. Ever so extemperaneously, he remembered that his hair nutrients were taken by the clutchfans. But at that point, he was just thankful for his life. That's when, to his horror, a teensy clutchfan emerged from the bush. It was the alpha clutchfan. Sausage Massage opened his mouth to scream but was cut short when the clutchfan sunk its teeth into Sausage Massage's shin. With a faint groan, the life escaped from Sausage Massage's lungs, but not before he realized that he was a failure. Less than seven miles away, Cohete Rojo was entombed by anguish over the loss of the hair nutrients. 'MY PRECIOUS!!' he cried, as he reached for a sharpened wolverine. With a hasty thrust, he buried it deeply into his fingernail. As the room began to fade to black, he thought about Sausage Massage... wishing he had found the courage to tell him that he loved him. But he would die alone that day. All that remained was the hair nutrients that had turned them against each other, ultimately causing their demise. And as the dew on melancholy sappling branches began to reflect the dawn's reddish glare, all that could be heard was the chilling cry of distant clutchfans, desecrating all things sacred to virtuous men, and perpetuating an evil that would reign for centuries to come. Our heroes would've lived unhappily ever after, but they were too busy being dead. So, no one lived forever after, the end.
It's pretty much proven that, unless you have some kind of clinical condition (i.e. acne or dandruff, etc), overusing shampoo and soap is detrimental to your skin and hair. I wash and scrub every day, but only use soap or shampoo on occasion. My skin and hair have never felt better. I also try to use cold water as much as possible, as that also helps.
Every other day at night and it pisses me off when the stupid soccer shows are on AM radio when I do. I have perfect skin and girls touch it.
This doesn't seem to be a joke post. Are you familiar with the germ theory of disease? 'Cause, uh, not using soap = not "washing."
