It’s not like I don’t crib about my job. I do, and quite vociferously too. Sometimes it seems to me all I do after coming home is complain about the hard time I had. I am the first one to chuckle at boss jokes and forward office cartoons. But today is not a day to criticize. It’s a day to celebrate one whole year of my first job and think about everything I have ever liked about it. And what I truly, truly, like the most are the clothes. Or rather, the freedom to buy and wear any outlandish apparel I want. Call me frivolous or childish, but I’m so glad a newspaper job does not claw away my jeans and converse and jaunty hair bands. I have friends working at banks who must have their formal trousers ironed razor-sharp and shoes shined a crazy black. I know there are now institutions that do not frown upon a top-and-trouser combo, but I do think that they would have something quite harsh to say about my skin tight pants and hair left tumbling all over the forehead. — bhattarairicha.blogspot.com