(TW: Discussing food and diets) Recently my parents have been on a bit of a health kick. By health kick I mean that they have become obsessed with sugar and carbs. They aren’t full keto crazy, but it is hard to find bread in my house. I am grateful that I live on campus and can take a break from their obsessiveness, but I find that I have to undo a lot of the messages I am receiving when I live at home. Just yesterday my mom sent me a TikTok from their idol, a man named “Bobby Parish.” He declares foods as “Bobby Approved” if they meet his personnel criteria for food. He even has an app for your phone that you can use to scan products in the grocery store to see if they meet his requirements.

Over the summer I worked for an aerospace and defense company as an intern. It was my first “big girl” job and I was really excited to gain some “real-world” experience and have something to put on my resume. I thought I was doing a good job fitting in and trying to get out of my comfort zone, until my boss had scheduled a last minute meeting to meet his boss. This was not something I was looking forward to, especially since it had come as a surprise. I had a full breakdown after I had completely frozen up on the Microsoft teams call. My boss was really concerned and didn’t understand why I had gotten upset. To him it was a casual meeting to tell his boss what I had been working on. But I had felt an intense pressure to make my boss look good in front of his boss, and I am not very good at coming up with things to say on the spot. He was really worried about me, and probably a bit confused as to why something so small had upset me so much. I explained to him that I like to have lots of time to “mentally prepare” for things, especially meeting new people who are important.

I had thought I was good at masking, until I heard some of the feedback my boss had for me. He noticed that I was not very good at eye contact, or introducing myself to people. He had chalked it up to me being “shy.” He would tell people this almost as a warning that I would be awkward and hard to converse with. The more positive feedback included how he appreciated my straight forward and direct communication, and my efficiency and time management skills…soo pretty much any feedback I received about myself was an autistic trait. It was all right in front of them, but no one could quite pinpoint what it was about me that was different.

I have been trying to get an autism diagnosis for 21-years. Well, not quite the entire time. I didn’t even know what autism was when I was going to see an autism specialist. I was 8-years old and I thought I was just going to see a nice lady who let me play with puzzles and asked me about school and my friends. Of course I knew I was seeing a doctor, but I didn’t understand what it meant at the time. When my parents were considering getting me diagnosed they told me I would have to take a bunch of long tests and talk to strangers, something I am definitely not into. Also I excelled in school and was able to keep one or two friendships. I think the biggest issue was the money, was it really worth it to pay thousands of dollars to get a piece of paper saying I was autistic? Outwardly, I was doing pretty well and I think most people though I was just an awkward kid.

I hate wearing jeans. At least 95% of the jeans at the store. They never seem to fit right, the waist is too big, the hips are too small. High-rise never hits at the right spot, and I swear you need special underwear (and a special kind of confidence) to wear low-rise jeans. When I think about the clothing I wear most of the time it’s based on feel. How it feels physically on my body. I hate too tight jeans, too tight turtlenecks, and too tight shirts. I hate when the neckline hits in the wrong spot, when I can feel the button of my pants when I sit down, and when my skirt is too flowy. There’s something called too much of a breeze you know? And not to forget the feeling of peeling your thighs apart after sitting down for too long. But most of the time the feeling of uncomfortable clothing cannot be put in words. Some times the clothes I like one day feel completely different on another day. I feel like I either end up in something resembling pajamas, or dressing up so much it feels like a costume.