The Autism Diaries?! (Part 7)

A new occasional series here at “Sounds Good”

Oscar said this morning, in the sticky, humid, muggy heat, “Where can I put this hoodie?” I was baffled he had stepped out in it, but hey. I told him he could carry it, and he spotted I had a bag and said, “Or I could stuff it in your bag, right?” Sure, I said. And added, “You are doing me a favour taking it off, I was beginning to feel sick looking at you wearing that”. He laughed and then said, “Jesus, what?” And I uttered a brand new sentence, but one that encapsulates a lifetime issue: “I have a complicated relationship with clothing”. His reply was, “Jesus, Autism, much?” And mine was, “Yeah, well, probably”. I’ve never been small. I was always ‘big for my age’, (big for my size too!) I was always one of the tallest in school — until I was 15, then everyone caught up, and a few passed me. But I grew out as much as I ever grew up. And so, a part of my frustration with clothing was tight-fitting things, absolutely. But before that was ever any sort of issue, and even after, it was the feel. Certain textures. Wool, in particular. At school we had to wear the jersey in the winter, and for things like sports trips and photographs. Mum would wash the jersey in fabric softener and buy one that was far too big — so that the arms wouldn’t cling. She would douse me in talcum powder, and I have no idea if that worked, but I had to believe it did. (Placebos were all go back then). I would grit my teeth as the jersey went on, and I would sweat in it and feel prickly, and I would race to the finish line of a day so I could remove it. I haven’t worn a jersey in about 30 years, and I barely wear anything long sleeved unless I have to. I am better with jackets, because there is lining, but I prefer not to when there’s the option. And just thinking about it brings something almost resembling an anxiety. When I see people in jeans on hot days, and especially jerseys or jackets, I feel very close to ill. I remove shoes as soon as I can, socks too, hats, and anything formal when I am forced into wearing something formal. I know that big baggy shorts, and large t-shirts, and open-zipped billowing hoodies aren’t an especially flattering look. I know that something tailored is sharper, and could ‘look’ better. But it never feels better. And whilst I admire the sartorial efforts of others, I just know that not only could I never compete, I wouldn’t want to; could not feel comfortable even trying. And so I don’t try. At least as often as I can.