I’m a gross girl who rarely showers, skips deodorant and don’t brush my teeth – it’s so freeing

You might assume, given I’m not a fan of soap, hardly ever comb my hair, often forget to brush my teeth every day and sometimes don’t shower for a week, that I’m one of a few things – homeless, an addict or mentally unhinged.

I am none of these things, but eschew regular washing out of choice. Surely I must be a raging hippy then? Wrong again. I don’t believe in homoeopathy, star signs or the doctrine of Extinction Rebellion. Nor do I like slumming it. I don’t even enjoy camping.

But I do agree with advice issued by the French government earlier this month that people are washing their clothes far too often.

The French Ecological Transition Agency has caused uproar with an edict to save water, cut pollution and make clothes last longer by wearing jeans for a month, t-shirts for five days and gym clothes for three days before throwing them in the machine.

I’m a mother to a two-year-old, work from home and live in the countryside with a dog, two cats and three chickens who don’t care if I potter around looking like I’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards. The the only time I use deodorant is if I am going to the supermarket.

My own cleanliness is at the very bottom of my priority list.

I started documenting my ‘gross girl’ antics on TikTok before I had my baby and in a week I racked up more than half a million views on the videos, and even more surprisingly, the vast majority of comments have been in support of it. Which suggests I’m not quite so abnormal as I’ve always thought.

In them (and not much has changed since I had my son) I confessed to living on my own, rarely interacting with other humans and thus not bothering to shower.

I don’t particularly like the feeling – especially not in winter – of getting wet, and being cold, and then getting dry and putting on a different variation of the same costume I always wear; leggings and a soft T-shirt; matching pyjamas if I’m feeling particularly bouji. Not showering every day means not changing every day, which is fine by me.

I don’t brush my hair, but instead just bung it in a bun atop my head when it starts getting too tangled.

I don’t use deodorant or antiperspirant – what exactly is the point, unless I happen to be seeing someone? I do, as a compromise, keep a can of Febreze downstairs, just in case the postman comes and I have to sign for a package, which is seldom.

Perhaps I’ve fallen victim, subconsciously, to the rumours that plying our skin with all these chemicals several times a day isn’t good for us, and can even be bad. 

‘Some people have wondered if aluminium in some deodorants and sprays affects cancer risk,’ states Cancer Research UK. ‘But there is no good evidence to suggest a link.’

Still, it feels unnecessary to me on an instinctual level, to block one’s sweat glands on a daily basis for no good reason. We’re the only species to be so slavish about scrubbing ourselves of our natural scent – indeed, vets tell us not to bathe our pets regularly, for it upsets the balance of their skin and interferes with the natural oils that condition their coats.

And we haven’t always been so obsessed with soaping our bodies once, often twice a day. For most of human history, baths were a laborious task reserved solely for the very wealthy, and showering was only popularised in the mid-19th century.

Which is not to say we should all be behaving like dogs or mediaeval peasants, just that our contemporary self-cleaning compulsion is probably more to do with vanity and good advertising campaigns than being a biological necessity. We are not living longer and getting sick less because of Dove bodywash and Sure deodorant, but rather clean drinking water and modern medicine.

I am less proud of the fact that I hardly ever brush my teeth the recommended twice or three times a day, which is obviously not smart. 

I don’t like doing it first thing in the morning, which is when I eat, because it makes everything taste weird. You shouldn’t brush them immediately afterwards because that only circulates the food into the crevices – a dentist told me that. 

And usually by the time I remember that I’ve forgotten to do it, it’s time for another meal. Once a day it is then, at best.

I should point out that I’m not so slovenly as to inflict this behaviour on others. When I lived in London and worked in an office, I showered most weekdays, slapped on tinted moisturiser and at least used dry shampoo. 

When my husband, who currently works abroad, is home, I brush my teeth twice a day and tolerate my cornflakes tasting like Colgate.

But as soon as he’s gone, and I’m back to being a hermit, all bets are off. My hairbrush gathers dust, my shower gets lonely, and my washing machine wonders what it’s done to offend me.

The welcoming response I’ve had to this on TikTok is either just a result of the algorithm matching me with other people as disgraceful as I am; or is proof that, after a pandemic that rendered most of us antisocial and housebound by law, many have to come to realise just how freeing it is to ditch the endless preening.