WHILE THE MAJORITY OF WOMEN EMBRACE THE HIGH STREET LIKE A LONG-LOST LOVER, SELF-CONFESSED ‘SHOPAPHOBIC’ SALLY LINDSAY, 36, RECKONS IT’S THE STUFF OF NIGHTMARES

When I die, St Peter will say to me: “Sorry, mate, you’ve not been very good, so you’re heading to hell – and, by the way, it’s a massive shopping centre with lots of women dressed in leisurewear buying pink things.”

Shopping? I hate it. Why put yourself through it? I’m sure some women only brave the sales because they want a punch-up.

And why anyone would queue for hours just to get the latest Kate Moss dress is beyond me. It’s just a dress, for God’s sake!

To put it bluntly, shopping is boring and there’s so much to dislike about it – the jostling, the queues, the crowds and, worst of all, the changing rooms.

They have the worst lighting ever and, on top of that, you’ve always got the wrong knickers on – which everyone sees, of course, because the curtain doesn’t fit across the doorway.

It’s like a form of Chinese water torture.

Even worse are the communal variety.

They stink of cheap perfume and BO, and you’ll always find some 3st girl, with gazelle-like legs in skinny jeans, saying: “Oh my God, I look massive in these!”

At that point, I give up and say to myself: “I’ll just get my coat.”

I think I must have been born with a faint Y chromosome. I do have a feminine side – I love chocolate, get overemotional and suffer from PMT – but I can also drive well, read a map and enjoy DIY.

So it’s only natural that I shop like a man, preferring only to go if I really need something, and then buy the first thing I see that fits me.

Admittedly, I have come back with some ridiculous purchases – for some reason I buy lots of tights when I go to TK Maxx – which end up festering in my wardrobe because I can’t be bothered to take them back.

I discovered how much of an anti-shopper I was as a teenager, back in the days of C&A and Chelsea Girl.

My eight closest mates from school and I decided to go on a Saturday shopping trip. By the end of it I wanted to kill myself. After that fateful day I declared I was never doing that again.

Unfortunately, my partner Steve loves to shop. He’s not in the same league as Posh, but there have been times when I’ve had to say to him: “You’ve only got two arms, you know, how many more bags do you think you can carry?”

Now I give Steve an hour to shop then stand outside with all the husbands. Every so often I’ll glance in, catch his eye and tap my watch. That’s about as much as I can handle, and nothing will change my mind.

I recently read a survey claiming nearly half of women preferred shopping to sex. They’re obviously doing something very wrong!

Are you a shopaholic or a shopaphobic? Do you prefer shopping to sex? Does the thought of visiting the mall fill you with dread? Or is a day out shopping with your girlfriends your idea of a perfect way to spend a Saturday?

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Photography: Camera Press, GETTY