I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone with an autistic child whose child wasn’t picky when it comes to food. In that sense, we’re somewhat lucky in that Daniel isn’t all that picky. In fact, our 11 -year-old daughter is the pickiest one. It’s for her that we have to often make “other meals” than the main one.
That being said, there are two people in this household who are gluten-free, and it’s the two who have been diagnosed ASD–Daniel and me. We are gluten-free because anything with wheat in it causes us to get severe stomach aches, and has more than once caused Daniel to throw up (usually, it’s a combination of birthday cake and driving home from the birthday party). Daniel won’t even ask for cake anyplace else any more.
There’s also some Type-2 diabetes in the house, so there’s an increasing avoidance of anything with carbs.
But we can’t just get rid of carbs, because our daughter won’t eat anything except bread, tortillas, spaghetti, butter, cheese, milk, cereal, bacon, fried eggs, or pepperoni pizza (how is the taste of everything else too strong, but not pepperonis, which she’ll eat plain?). If we got rid of carbs, she’d starve.
To round things out, Dylan will at least eat almost anything.
Most of my pickiness comes out of certain textures being “wrong.” And Daniel seems to go back and forth on some things, like fried eggs. I made him over-easy eggs, but he wouldn’t eat the yolks. So I started making him fried egg whites. Then he said he didn’t want, “baby eggs,” meaning he wanted yolks. He ate over-easy eggs with yolks for a few weeks, but this past weekend he ate only the whites again. My guess is he’s torn between the slimy yolk texture and the desire to not be eating “baby eggs.”
I also have to make two batches of chili, one with all the vegetables, one with just meat and beans. Melina won’t eat any chili, of course, but the boys will. And the boys will eat things that are hot and spicy, but complain if there are too many things like onions, chunks of peppers, or spinach/chard. Of course, part of this is simply that children simply refuse to eat their vegetables.
Our pickiest eater, though, is one who hasn’t been diagnosed with autism. She does have the pickiness and the clothes sensitivities (and fashion sense) that typically comes with autism, though. At least she doesn’t have the wheat allergy, though, or I don’t know what that girl would eat. As it is, with pickiness, gluten-free, and diabetes (and I have slightly low blood sugar, so I have to have carbs), I’m practically a short order cook when it comes to dinner. Doesn’t everyone make 3-4 different meals at dinner time?
Have you ever noticed that spaghetti and fettuccine taste different? Probably not. Unless, that is, you’re on the autism spectrum, in which case it’s not impossible that the differences in texture between spaghetti and fettuccine result in the experience of different flavors for those two otherwise completely identical foods. The result is that I love spaghetti with meat sauce, and I love fettuccine alfredo, but cannot stand spaghetti alfredo or fettuccine with meat sauce. They’re wrong.
Also, scrambled eggs are terrible, but boiled eggs or over-easy eggs are great. Texture makes all the difference among those ways of preparing eggs.
Cooked peas are terrible–nasty squishy, poppy things. But peas in pea salad are fine. The texture gets improved with the boiled eggs and diced pickles. (My wife replaces the pickles with cheese, which is also texturally wrong, but tolerable.)
If you have a child (or significant other) who seems to be oddly picky about things that shouldn’t matter–“How can you like macaroni and cheese with elbow noodles, but not with spirals!”–the reason is almost certainly texture issues. The textures of foods matter as much as the textures of clothing on our skin. And you may not be able to tell any difference, but we most certainly can.
I’ve read that autistics tend to not care about their appearance. I did. In a certain sense. In elementary school, I always made sure my hair was perfect. I would wake up–on my own–at 5:30 to take a shower every morning. I had to wear dress shoes because only those were all-leather and fitted with a Thomas heel, which was necessary because of my feet and hip problems, but I did not have to wear the dress slacks and button-down shirts I wore literally every day everywhere, including to school. That’s why I said, “In a certain sense.” After all, as you can perhaps well imagine, my classmates all thought I dressed ridiculously, and they made fun of me over it. Even my closest friend encouraged me quite often to wear jeans.
When I started high school in the mid-80s, I started wearing jeans. Acid-washed jeans, but not regular jeans, and certainly not any with holes in them (as was the other trend of the time). I did not change that look until I started trying to dress in a sort of “grunge fashion,” which I got all kinds of wrong by wearing regular button-down shirts (as opposed to flannels) unbuttoned over t-shirts. Now I mostly just try to be comfortable, wearing shorts when I can and t-shirts. I avoid long-sleeve shirts because I cannot stand for anything to touch my wrists.
I wonder to what degree autistics “don’t care” about their appearance vs. caring but being unaware of how their appearance looks to others. Perhaps people mean autistics are less likely to brush their hair or perhaps even their teeth. But has it occurred to anyone that someone who is sensitive to touch may find brushing their hair to be an activity that actually causes pain? Has it occurred to anyone that mint might be such an overwhelming flavor and feeling to someone who is autistic that they would avoid brushing their teeth? Given there are few non-mint toothpaste flavors out there (almost all for children, especially after the lemon and orange flavors disappeared from the shelves), and given the “hot” flavor of cinnamon toothpaste likely being a turnoff for many autistics, is it surprising there are autistics who avoid brushing their teeth?
So this issue is a more complex one than neurotypicals realize. As with many things, “not caring” is perhaps a neurotypical projection of neurotypical motivations onto autistic behaviors. That is, they look at an autistic person who is dressed a certain way or doesn’t brush their hair or doesn’t brush their teeth or doesn’t wear deodorant, and thinks, “Well, if I did/didn’t do those things, it would be because I didn’t care.” But that’s simply not true. It’s no more true than if an autistic were to say, “That person has nothing they are completely and totally obsessed about? Why, they must not care about anything at all!” (But that is what we autistics secretly think about all you neurotypicals! 😉 )