My Journey with Food as an Autistic Woman

 

I wasn’t a spoiled brat. I was autistic.

I was called spoiled, dramatic, and difficult as a child because I wouldn’t eat what was served. What people didn’t understand was that food wasn’t just food to me—it was a sensory processing event.

I still struggle with food, though not as intensely as I once did. I’ve come a long way from surviving on Koegel hot dogs, Ore-Ida french fries, cottage cheese, and a glass of milk. I didn’t really start trying new-to-me foods until my thirties, during a weight loss journey.

Even now, I’m sometimes called a spoiled brat by people who don’t know me—strangers who don’t understand why I gag or vomit when confronted with certain foods. That reaction still carries shame with it.

And it doesn’t need to be this way.

We need to be more accommodating to people with food sensitivities. Go get that girl a cheeseburger. Prepare the salad the way she needs it. Let her eat without humiliation.

We also need to stop adding peer pressure around food. If someone doesn’t like lettuce, don’t force them to eat a taco with lettuce—get them one without it. If someone doesn’t eat as “healthy” or “clean” as you, don’t comment on it. Don’t force them to finish their plate. Don’t make them feel bad for what is or isn’t on it. And if someone asks you not to talk about their food choices, respect their boundary.

I’m tired of justifying, explaining, and feeling ashamed of what I eat—and what I don’t. And I know I’m not the only one.

This is my journey with food as an autistic woman.