Shop till you drop one day. Return it all the next. Source: News Limited
STANDING in line at the till of one of my favourite stores, I can feel my heart start to pound as I run though my mental checklist. Receipt: check. Bag bursting with jeans: check. Credit card: check. I am just a minute away from being 100 pounds richer and, fleetingly, happier.
My name is Bonnie. I am a shopping bulimic and serial refundee. I binge on buying and purge myself by getting refunds afterwards.
My most recent binge? Four pairs of skinny jeans, the same make, colour and size, all bought at different branches of Uniqlo in London's West End. I get a rush from shopping this way and I'm fussy about the ankle of skinny jeans (even 'identical' pairs differ slightly), so I buy in bulk to compare at leisure in the comfort of my own home. Then I return the imperfect pairs and, most importantly, get my money back.
“So what did you buy today?” Source: News Limited
We shopping bulimics are all the same under the skin. Purchases are our 'food'. The splurge - or buy - gives us the fun and the high, while the purge - or return - gives us the rush and the thrill. For me, seeing money restored to my account is more exciting than the purchase itself.
My habits aren't helped by the fact that I live dangerously near a bustling high street with lots of tempting shops.
I obtain up to five refunds every weekend. Of course I really have far better things to do, such as work, but as a freelance writer it's all too tempting to leave the office at home.
Sometimes it's because I want to be distracted from work, other times I simply need a retail fix.
I've been like this for decades, ever since I opened my first bank account at the age of 18. In the ensuing years I've probably returned about 80 per cent of my purchases. My average shopping return is between 7 and 20 pounds - not too extravagant, just enough to make me happy that the money has gone back on my credit card. But, unlike a lot of unscrupulous shopping bulimics I know, I've never given the clothes an outing and then returned them - as I see it, that's not playing the game.
I've never been questioned or refused a refund but I'm careful to cast my net wide, visiting lots of High Streets and large, anonymous department stores. Besides which, I do actually keep the occasional item and everything returned is in immaculate condition.
Yes, I may teeter precariously on the brink of overdraft but, unlike the certified shopaholic - a different breed who spends indiscriminately and hoards purchases that have gone way past their return date - I don't risk getting into financial trouble.
Shopping bulimics like me do their maths. I know that with a fair wind and good timing I'll be back in credit before next month's bill arrives, as long as I've claimed my refunds before the statutory 28 days are up.
Not for me the misery of discarded designer dresses, silly shoes and hundreds of similar belts languishing in carrier bags piled in the wardrobe. I treasure my ability to clearly understand the words 'sale or return'.
I've tried hard to work out why I do this. I'm not anxious, guilt-ridden or depressed like many shopping bulimics, but I am a control freak about my money. I hate having an empty bank account - it makes me feel panicky and deprived and, although this sounds completely mad, when my money is refunded I feel as if I'm being paid.
Logically, of course, I know I'm not. But when my credit card statement arrives with all the money I've spent magically reinstated, I get such a buzz.
The high comes from knowing that I've had the thrill of shopping and carrying all those gorgeous, tissue-filled cardboard bags home without actually damaging my bank balance.
My mother owned a high-end boutique on Regent Street, selling cashmere and alpaca goods. She loved shopping for stock, but never got to keep it for long because, of course, someone always bought it. Perhaps that's why I feel compelled to take things back.
Many years ago the equivalent of 'sale or return', the lifeblood of shopping bulimia, was known as getting clothes 'on appro' - and my mum was addicted, just like me.
These two little words stood for 'on approval', meaning that you could take a dress (or several) to try on at home.
Shopping isn’t always funny. Source: News Limited
Amazingly, no money changed hands before you decided whether to buy. The system relied totally on trust. It seems incredible now that anyone was allowed to leave shop premises with a bundle of clothes they hadn't actually paid for, on the promise of returning them the following day.
This practice dwindled and then, in 1979, the Sale of Goods Act came in and gave us the blissful cooling-off period of 28 days that we have today.
But even if the 'on appro' service was available now, it would have no appeal to me. The adrenalin kick comes when I punch in my PIN, pick up that carrier bag (if it's a chic cardboard one, so much the better), ferry it home and know that I can eventually return the reject-in-waiting inside.
I even enjoy the self-flagellation of heaving bags back to their various shops, which has the added bonus of toning my arms and keeping me fit in a way that shopping online, which I indulge in less, does not.
Then I can look forward to seeing the item in question listed on my bank statement with that important little dash next to it - refund! I can spend that money all over again.
This reasoning is obviously mystifying to non-shopping bulimics, not least a number of men I know - and certainly my husband, who hates shopping.
He makes the point that having something refunded means you can't have liked it all that much in the first place. Yes, I know that! I just want to make sure, to be absolutely certain I really don't like it.
For I'm utterly unable to make a decision in the store. Much better to be browsing the goods at home, where I can lay out a row of clothes on the bed and invariably discover that nothing fits or looks as good as it did in the shop or online.
And at home there are no nasty changing rooms or assistants to barge in and see my cellulite. Then there's the lighting. Do stores never learn?
But it's not always clothes. It could be a photo frame, a bag, even a bread bin that I've studied and liked, yet just haven't liked enough. So back it goes.
Walking down the street with shopping bags. Lots of them. Source: News Limited
For this reason I avoid those strange independent establishments that offer only an exchange, credit note or vouchers, because there may never be anything else there that I fancy.
I also boycott shops that only issue a refund within 14 days because, for the shopping bulimic, such a short time in which to make a decision is simply too stressful.
Most importantly, of course, we shopping bulimics must ensure we keep our proof of purchase.
A few years ago I bought a gorgeous black mock-croc leather bag from Topshop at a cost of 95 pounds. It never had the chance to enjoy an outing because, after much pondering back at home, I decided it was too big - but had lost the receipt. This was a mishap that kept me up at night pacing the house, emptying waste paper bins and even dustbins. I eventually found the receipt, which I had inadvertently used as a bookmark. Phew.
In all my many years of shopping this way, I have made only one horrific blunder. It was my most expensive binge ever - a 1200 pound sheepskin coat.
It was a moment of madness just before the recession hit when I could almost - barely - afford it.
It looked like something an Afghan tribal leader might wear. My husband thought it was a dressing gown when he first clapped eyes on it, and said: 'What the hell did you pay for that? It's horrible!'
I knew deep down that he was right, and suddenly felt queasy.
I rushed back to the shop to purge the sale. You can imagine my horror when it turned out that there was no chance of a return as - yes, you've guessed - the independent shop had a no-refunds policy. I'd lost a scary sum of money and, worse, didn't experience my refund 'high'.
How could I, of all people, have made such a mistake? Why had I not checked the returns policy?
I took this white elephant to the charity shop. But the stress certainly didn't end my shopping bulimia - and I can't ever imagine a day when I'll buy something without instantly thinking of the high I'll get when I return it.
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