GIVE ME A BREAK:HOW MANY CHRISTMASES this year will be dominated by guilt and obligation? There are the visits you have to make but don't want to, the parties you may rather not attend but do anyway - and just when you're at your most exhausted, the forced cheer of putting on a face to all and sundry.

The obligation present, sometimes known as the guilt present, is probably the most wasteful spending of the year - both in terms of time and money. Does your brother-in-law really want that hedgehog-shaped shoe brush? Is the dainty tea-set suitable for the mother-in-law with whom you never have tea? Was it such a good plan to give friends bottles of extra virgin olive oil when you have no idea whether they like the stuff?

I know somebody whose entire second home in the country is filled with Christmas presents she never liked, which makes the house looking something like a cross between a gift shop and a thrift shop.

Everybody seems to be rushing around at the moment looking for reasonably priced gifts that they wouldn't give themselves in a million years, and they're only doing it because they're afraid of what will happen if they don't.

One year I got a present of a figurine that was so utterly tasteless that I immediately gave it away. Only afterwards did I discover that the darn thing had racked up three figures at the till. Another year I received a hideous shocking-pink wallet that I assumed was from one of those accessory shops for little girls. I gave it to a four-year-old, only to discover later, when I saw it in Vogue, that it was from a shop in London and worth about €100.

Then there's the issue of expense. Spending too much is as embarrassing as spending too little. What does the girl who buys her face cream in Boots give to the girl who knows the Brown Thomas cosmetics hall like the back of her hand, and vice versa?

Every shopping expedition - admit it - goes a little like this: "Well, last year they gave us such-and-such, which probably cost such-and-such, so this year we should spend the same amount they spent last year."

The dreaded voucher cuts through the guesswork because €50 for the CD shop is €50, and that's that. There's no need to know the people well enough (even if you're related to them) to understand their taste in music and perhaps introduce them to something new you think they'll like. That's too much work.

I know a woman who likes to give time, as in her own made-up vouchers for a night's babysitting or the promise of bringing someone else's child for a day out. Nice idea, but what if your children don't want to go with her? And if she wants to give time, isn't that just a little intrusive? Opening a present takes 30 seconds max. With one of her vouchers, you have to organise the night you'll need a babysitter (she's busy except for the third Friday in February) and if she's taking your kids, you have to drag them out of their routine to be sent off on a day-trip, when the kids probably would have preferred a selection box or three to devour on Christmas morning.

Then there are the self-improvement gifts - as in the giver telling you through the voucher that you need a facial, a new hairstyle or perhaps even a facelift. The men who buy their wives and girlfriends boob-jobs for Christmas are the epitome of this (though I just betcha there will be a few less of those this year).

Unless, that is, the wife or girlfriend has demanded a boob-job. Cosmetic surgery comes under the category of the "you'd better give me what I want or I'll never sleep with you again" present. Hints are dropped from about August for that diamond ring or car or new coat or whatever, and if it doesn't appear on Christmas morning, it's going to be a dry and chilly couple of months.

Then there's the "get away and leave me alone for a weekend" voucher, ones that have spouses sending each other away for spa or golfing weekends.

But of all the obligations and negotiations, Christmas Day itself brings the worst self- torture in the form of spending the entire day in the car going from house to house so that nobody's parents or grandparents feel left out. There are families who have Christmas dinner at 1pm in one county, then drive for hours to have Christmas dinner at 7pm in another county. All along the way there are cranky children and too much to eat and relatives who will still do their utmost to make you feel guilty, even though you've travelled far to bring them gifts that you hoped would earn you a "get out of guilt free" card.

A guilt-free Christmas? No way. Bah humbug. Maybe the best gift anyone could give is to say: you don't need to give me a gift, you don't need to visit me, you are allowed this year to stay home with your nearest and dearest under your own tree, put your feet up and eat all your favourites out of your very own box of Roses.

kholmquist@irishtimes.com