Last updated on November 26, 2023
Sock seams, shirt tags, tight watch bands, and high collars. These are a few of autistics least favorite things.
The tag-less t-shirt wasn’t a new invention, since tags were added long after shirts were first made or sold, but I’m so glad they are the norm today. I cannot recall the last time I saw tags in t-shirts.
Now, if companies would stop making polo shirts with tags on the sides! They remove the size tag from most brands, but too many still have tags sewn in near the waist. Why? Is there a legal requirement you have to include annoying tags in polo shirts and dress shirts?
I refuse to wear “slim-fit” anything. Give me relaxed-fit jeans, pleated slacks, and loose shirts. It might be obvious to style mavens that I don’t care about trends; my comfort comes first.
My shirt collars are a half-inch “too large” when I am sized by clerks or tailors. I like them that way. I tie my neckties loosely. Even my shoes are a half-size up because I hate my toes hitting the end of a shoe.
A parent jokingly asked if I spend my days in sweat shorts at home. Yes. Yes, I do.
As I write this, I am wearing my loose Reebok jogging shorts, an extra-large thin t-shirt, and extra soft “air-dry” crew-cut socks.
During this pandemic, who is wearing a suit at home for video conferencing? Not me. My students saw me in Old Navy polo shirts. I wasn’t going to wear a dress shirt and tie for online class meetings.
It isn’t just clothing that bothers me, either. I have struggled with watch bands, rings, and anything around my neck – as if ties weren’t bad enough. The standard-issue school and conference lanyards bother me.
I remember the old metal “springy” watch bands that were common in the 1980s and 90s. I hated when they caught hairs on my arm. Thank goodness watchbands were easily replaced. Give me a loose buckle-style band.
My Fitbit Ionic moves loosely up and down my wrist. Maybe that isn’t perfect for the fitness features. It works, and I can tolerate it… most of the time.
The most annoying bit of preparing to go to work wasn’t selecting clothes that wouldn’t have me anxious all day. No, the worst part of my morning was shaving and showering.
Facial hair itches. I see beards and I begin scratching my neck. There is no way, none, that I could ever have a mustache or beard. I hate sideburns and hair on my neck.
This means I have to shave. I hate the sensation of shaving, either with an electric or a blade razor. I go through razor blades quickly. When I used an electric razor, I used shaving talc. The blades lasted a few months, at best. My cartridge razor heads last three or four days, not a full week.
Showering means dealing with the slick feeling of soaps, shampoos, and body washes. I hate slick, oily, greasy sensations. Wash quickly, then spend several minutes making sure all the slickness is gone.
I have to use lip balms and lotions when the air is dry. My skin cracks. I hate lotions so much that I wipe my hands with paper towels right after I use lotion. The only things I hate more on my hands than lotions are gloves.
Trying to explain sensory overload, I have told audiences to imagine clothes of steel wool, lights as bright as the sun, and sounds that vibrate your teeth. However, it’s not always “scratching” or “bright” or “vibrating” that bothers me. Does anyone like the sound of corduroy pants? Aren’t there colors that disgust you? Surely some voices annoy you, even as a whisper.
I do my best to cope, to accommodate my senses. I’m not always successful.