Death by Corporation

Tomorrow will be my first Dress-down Friday as a working woman. When I was unemployed I felt as if each cumulative day saw the erosion of a tiny bit more of my self-esteem. Logically, I knew blah blah blah recession, everyone in the same boat yada yada yada. Not my fault my graduation coincided with such a shitty economic period. Yet each morning it was as if the squidgy mozzerella ball of my soul had in the course of the night been savagely attacked, beaten and left for dead by the rough side of the cheese grater. I felt raw and somehow lessened.

I'm sure you can predict the ending to this story. Yup, I have a job now and kinda wish I didn't. The idea that tomorrow is meant to be this big fucking treat - ZOMG we get to wear jeans, forget that £38.50 you owe me, I'll do it for free! - makes my throat constrict. Of course, I guess the really sad thing is that I'm actually looking forward to tomorrow - dammit, I want to wear my jeans...