Looking for business a-tyre is deflating.

For reasons that are still unclear to me, I have spent today in search of a suit. First in my travels, I went to my aunt's house and endured the terror of being jumped on by her family's hideous puppy which lives indoors, because it smells better than my cousins. She had told me that she had two suits from when she was younger, and I was welcome to take whichever one fit me better- I took much delight in being offered the opportunity not to pay for my suit, because there are so many better things to buy, like shoes. Unfortunately, upon trying on both suits, I decided I would rather spend money that I don't have than wear those monstrosities.

My search for a suit then took me to Southland- an unfortunately named shopping centre so big, I reasoned, that I would be able to find something.
Three hours later and my situation was beginning to look more and more desperate. The thing is, I am far too short for suits. Even the mayor of the municipality in which I live has called me short, so it must be true. You would think that it wouldn't matter in terms of suit fitting, but no matter where I went, the suits are far too bulky and long. Even in the "petite" section. I look like a little kid playing dress ups- certainly not the look I'm going for.

I despondently entered Forever New, having not yet made my first purchase of the day. Three quarters of an hour and five shop assistants later, having tried on what felt like half of their store, I emerged from the change rooms intending to buy just one overpriced skirt- the only business skirt that I had found that looked reasonable on someone of my undesirable proportions. At the counter, I rifled through my bag for my purse. Figuring it was just hiding underneath the various useless items that reside in my bag, I emptied out everything in search of it. Of course, it wasn't there, and apparently they're not allowed to hold items in that store. And, of course, that skirt happened to be the very last one in my size that they had, leaving me clinging on to the vain hope that it will still be there on Thursday, which is the soonest I can go back there for it.

Even without my beloved savings card, I carried on in my search for anything I can pass off as a suit. And eventually I found it- a suit jacket that was not dress-length, black, and a nice cut that won't look like a cardboard box when worn. The only problem? They had pretty much every size except mine.

It's a sign. Perhaps I'm just not meant to have a suit. Perhaps nobody should. We should all walk around in Adidas trackies, tank tops and ugg boots. What a perfect world that would be.