This blog is dedicated to:

My beautiful, big-hearted baby sister and her valiant, generous hubby, and my most loyal and supportive friend YS – thank you for helping me eat better, look beyond my feet, reach out, live my dreams and keep on keeping on, knowing always that I am loved.

My canine angel, Lucy Like a Charm, who shares this wonderful journey.

love or fluff?

When someone declares with grandiose largesse they “love” you after having only just met you, do you believe them literally, does it make you feel good, or do you cringe? Do you ask yourself, “Is it love, or just fluff?”

Here are a few thoughts from my autistic perspective on a recent social situation where a person keeps declaring utmost “love” for me, but, try as I might (and I have tried hard for many months now) I have been unable to match her actions to her words. Continue reading


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This weekend was most clement indeed. I’ve been battling sensory intensities throughout the cold snap, and the sunshine and warmth of today was such a refreshing relief. Lucy seemed happy to be going outside ‘naked’ for a change too! No need for a coatie to keep her delicate fat-free body warm, hurrah! Continue reading

grace notes

Visual Snippets of Grace…

I woke up this morning to a soft, silken velvet head on my belly, deep amber eyes watching me as I stirred. I reached to stroke and revel in the luxurious texture and a glorious multidimensional warmth soaked upwards, through my cold fingers and hands, inexorably inhabiting my entire being. Continue reading

if the shoe fits

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Lately, I’ve been preoccupied somewhat by visual, textural and other physical-emotive memories surrounding shoes. There are a few threads in this tapestry, so bear with me, as I am also not feeling very eloquent today. It is turning out to be yet another non-verbal / low-word thought day in a series of many in the past two weeks. That said, I nevertheless managed to finish editing a 4,400 word book chapter. Reading the words aloud helps me at times like these – the transference from the purely verbal semantics into the proprioceptive action of ‘noise-making’ seems to alleviate the pain that this state of shutdown delivers. Am I making sense? Maybe not much, but it sure sounds fun to the ears!

Anyhow, back to the shoes… My last pair of very comfortable sneakers finally gave up the ghost. It was the last pair of sneakers to bow out from my former vast and eclectic collection of shoes. Continue reading

The “Reading The Mind In The Eyes” Test: A Collaborative Critique


I really needed this wonderful laugh today. Who says autists have no sense of humour? (Oups, another myth debunked! Watch out, everyone, your world is crashing around you!!!)

Originally posted on Lemon Peel:

Once upon a time, there was this damn test invented by the Baron-Cohen Lab meant to measure an individual’s ability to read emotions from facial expressions. It was kind of a silly explosion. It’s real-life name is the “Reading the Mind in the Eyes Test,” and as of right now, GoogleScholar says that it has been cited over 2100 times since the “revised” edition was published in 2001. I have always been somewhat skeptical of this test, which 1. Contains only photos of white people, and 2. Includes only photos of young, heavily made-up, conventionally attractive women, whose expressions (according to the test) are “flirtatious,” “fantasizing,” “desire,” or “interested.” In case you aren’t familiar with the work of the Baron-Cohen Lab, they’re responsible for everyone’s favorite “Extreme Male Brain Theory” of autism.

So Dani and I thought it would be fun to get a few snarky/funny autistic women together to…give…

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Ode to Mary


I don’t mind Diva personalities, so long as the Diva knows her boundaries of propriety. I am all for drama with flourish, poise and elegance. My own parallel existence in this neurotypical dominated world hinges a lot on performativity anyway. Bring on the Diva, I am happy to embrace all hues and textures with open sensitivities. However, I draw the line at blatant disrespect, callous abuse, pushy bullying and gossip mongering. Well, I should, anyway, draw the line, that is. I must confess that I am still struggling to acquire a goodly level of skill in this area, to my own detriment. Continue reading


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My Facebook feed is awash in rainbows. I am happy about this. I am heterosexual, but I embrace diversity. I celebrate Beingness, acceptance, care and due respect for a peaceful, loving, unprejudiced diversity.

Bigotry is too alive and far too robustly well in our lives. I want the haters to go away, but hatred is a very cogent stalker. And sometimes, extremely subtle and insidious. Continue reading

Judging A Book By Its Cover


When I was a preteen, I dressed like a boy, just because boys’ clothes were more comfortable, and I was at the time exploring my own personal concepts of gender and identity. I faced some really terrifying and nasty confrontations in ladies’ toilets as a result. I was, and still am, a tiny, slight and fragile figure, and I behaved myself, minding my own business, but was verbally harassed by adult women, belittled and even shouted at. It was extremely traumatic. At the same time, I would see mothers bring their preteen sons into ladies’ toilets, badly behaved boys, and nobody said a word. I now realise that the abuse I encountered was less because they thought I was in the wrong toilet, but more probably because I just did not fit people’s physical-visual stereotypes, and they were somehow taking out their prejudicial rage on me. They identified me as ‘weirdo’ and unleashed their bigotted fears upon a hapless child because they were cowards, and too afraid to look into the mirror of their own unhappy anomalies.

This post by Alex not only resonates in the context of gender / identity, but also contains reverberations in many more dimensions – wherever there is stubborn ignorance and prejudice, wherever people use subtle subversive tactics to belittle what and who they do not know, and do not wish to find out about.

Originally posted on Married, With Aspergers:

I’m lucky, I guess. When I am out and about I usually get gendered correctly. Shop staff call me madam, a dad called “Mind out for that lady” to his young children who were running about as I walked past, colleagues at work use the correct pronouns to refer to me. I still feel happy when I hear it although the degree of pleasure has diminished as it has become my normal experience.

I realize this experience is not typical for a trans woman. A big factor in my favor is that I don’t pay much attention to people around me: I have no idea if people are looking at me and rarely will I notice if they are talking about me. It’s a facet of my autism; I’ve never been particularly aware of other people unless I’m interacting with them and I can hardly begin to guess at how…

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I read this article this morning: “Gaslighting is a Common Victim-Blaming Abuse Tactic.” The issue of emotional and mental abuse has been very present in my thought-scape lately. I been wrestling with slippery little grinning social-relational trolls dressed up in glittering couture – conceptual ones and palpable corporeal beings – and simultaneously worrying haplessly about the well being of someone near and dear to my heart.

My mind, senses and emotions are inundated by deluge of thought trajectories, morsels of visual animations, suspended word stims, clashing warring smells, and aching stabbing weariness.