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I'd done my time in corporate America, from McDonald's making shakes to Morgan Stanley making deals and, yet, I felt awfully constrained by the uniform - not just my clothes, but how I felt I needed to conform - that a traditional job required me to wear.

I was working in restaurants as a captain and as a waiter.

My first waitress job was at Johnny Rockets in New Jersey, and then I waited tables at a sports bar.

When I was 16, I had a job on the cleaning crew at a local hospital. I wore a pink uniform and cleaned bathrooms and buffed the hallway linoleum. Oddly, I don't recall hating the job. I recall getting choked up at the end of the summer when I went to turn in my uniform and say goodbye to the ladies.

I worked in Tesco's staff canteen because I fancied a boy on the tills. I served him his lunch in a hairnet and tan tights. Not just that, of course - I had a lovely white onesie.

I have been a waitress, and I was a damn fine waitress too, let me tell you.

My standard uniform is a T-shirt and jeans.

I wasn't the best waitress in the world, but I was cheerful and worked hard.

I remember the first time I put on the Army uniform. I just felt like a totally different person - I felt proud.