You do not need to apologise for being human

You can learn a lot about women in a hair salon.

Not necessarily from their hair. Not from whether they're blonde or brunette or considering bangs again despite bangs personally victimising them three separate times and somehow we're back here discussing it like we've collectively forgotten history.

No.

You learn from the apologies.

"Oh my God, sorry my hair's dirty."

"Please ignore my skin."

"I look exhausted."

"Don't judge my greys."

"Sorry about the regrowth."

"Look at the bags under my eyes."

And honestly?

What are we doing.

You do not need to apologise to me for existing in a human body.

I think women are conditioned from such a young age to present polished. Put together. Organised. Capable. Like we've got our lives beautifully colour coded in matching storage containers with aesthetically pleasing labels and fresh lemons sitting in bowls on our kitchen bench while we casually sip tea we definitely drank hot.

Meanwhile?

The wheels are not just off.

They are absolutely in another suburb.

Women clean their houses before the cleaner comes.

Think about that for a second.

We literally pay another human being money to come and help us clean and somehow our brains still go: "Quick. Better clean before she gets here."

Guests are coming over?

Excellent.

Now we aggressively vacuum corners nobody has acknowledged since 2019, fluff cushions like our life depends on it and hide evidence that actual human beings live here.

Because somewhere along the line we learnt that existing visibly as a person with mess and stress and dirty hair and exhaustion and life happening all over us somehow requires explanation.

I see it in the salon constantly.

Women walk in apologising before they've even sat down.

Hair dirty.

Skin breaking out.

Greys showing.

Looking tired.

Listen.

You've got two kids.

You've done school drop off six days straight because your husband's fly in fly out.

You haven't sat down properly in three weeks.

You haven't had a hot coffee since approximately 2016.

Your hair is dirty because you're surviving your life.

Not failing it.

And I think salons unintentionally make it worse sometimes because you sit in front of a mirror for four or five hours wearing essentially a floating black shapeless cape that disconnects you entirely from your body.

Then your hair gets wet.

Then there are foils everywhere.

Then we're layering colour.

Then it looks terrifying halfway through because every colour looks terrifying halfway through.

We have all had that moment.

The hairdresser says: "Trust the process."

And you're looking at yourself thinking: "Respectfully, Sharon, I would love to trust the process but right now I look vaguely Victorian orphan coded and lightly electrocuted."

And underneath all of that humour is usually something bigger.

Women apologising for being human.

For ageing.

For stress.

For pigmentation.

For hormonal breakouts.

For stretch marks.

For dirty hair.

For existing in a body that has carried life and responsibility and work and children and mental load and stress and grief and happiness and ordinary everyday existence.

Life leaves fingerprints.

On bodies.

On skin.

On hair.

On faces.

And I think women spend so much time looking at polished versions of reality that we forget actual humans exist underneath all of it.

We see filtered skin.

Filled faces.

Perfect lighting.

Perfect angles.

Tiny moments in time presented as reality.

Then we sit in front of mirrors and quietly decide we're the problem.

No.

Absolutely not.

If you sit in my chair apologising for your dirty hair, I'll wash it.

If your greys are coming through, we'll talk about it.

If your hair feels off, we'll figure it out.

If life has been life-ing particularly aggressively lately, sit down.

Take the pressure off.

You do not need to perform here.

You do not need to have your shit together.

You do not need to apologise.

Not for your face.

Not for your skin.

Not for your body.

Not for your hair.

And certainly not for existing exactly as you are on the day you walk through the door.

Because life leaves fingerprints.

And honestly?

That was never the thing that needed fixing.

Also respectfully?

Dirty hair?

That is literally why I own shampoo.