Column: Long live world day of indulgence

Aah, Christmas, the day of exceptions, when you're allowed to sleep in, wear unforgivably naff festive-themed accessories and watch badly animated repeats of How Digimon Saved Christmas because, let's be honest, history considered, the weather's going to be bad.
It is also the only day of the year when you're allowed to eat anything - yes ANYTHING. Your diet is limited only by your stomach capacity and gag reflex. There are no rules. Suck up every last lolly in your stocking before breakfast, down the last of the rogue candy canes that fell off the Christmas tree and got stuck behind the heater, eat an entire flipping ham because, heck, it's Christmas!
You bought lots of appliances this year so there's at least three more where that one came from anyway. Christmas is no time for sulks so every grudge you may have can be quickly and efficiently drowned with festive foody goodness. Have to spend the day feigning delight at the presence of your extended family? Pudding time! Spent so much on presents you're wondering how much your children would go for on the black market? Cheese platter!
Hippy Aunt Margaret planted another douglas fir in your name instead of an actual present? Profiteroles! Who knows what they are but their sorrow-drowning properties are probably excellent. Which is why it makes me twitch a little when I get an email telling me what and how I should be eating on the international day of indulgence. Apparently this is tofu - and moderately.
Don't get me wrong, I love my veges as much as the next person and if you prefer coagulated bean curd over Bambi and friends on a spit roast, that's just fine with me for 364 days of the year. But not Christmas.
The offending email was from my favourite cafe and in return for my year of faithful custom they offered me, as an esteemed patron, 10 gastronomic pathways to a "happy and wholesome Christmas". Options included an array of tantalising treats from courgette sticks to wholemeal sandwiches featuring beetroot and its equally attractive friend, cucumber. In fact, claimed aforementioned cafe, why not forgo the classic Kiwi Christmas dinner altogether and have a nourishing family breakfast?
After all, who needs meat and pav when you can indulge in a 2/3 cup serving of bircher muesli with natural unsweetened yogurt? Added bonus if everyone's up in time for the family yogalates session in the zen garden at seven. Why sleep in when you could be busy cherishing? Why indeed.
The email closed by wishing me an abundant and fulfilling New Year, urging I avoid all "anti-restorative naughty things", an odd invocation considering I'm pretty sure one can't be achieved without the other.
Who are these people? Do they have souls? I dearly hope this kind of purist  word-phlegm isn't infecting your inbox this season.
Everyone knows the real reason for Christmas, hay mangers and farm animals and what was probably a very uncomfortable evening for all involved. But Christmas also represents a day off, a well-deserved 24-hour hiatus from mortgages, deadlines, exam results, the price of cheese and all the other miniature annoyances that speckle our everyday lives. Including the nutritional value of a truffle.
My Christmas will be many things. Wholesome is not one of them. I invite you to join me. In fact, my Boxing Day activity will probably be compiling an accurately numbered list of exactly what I did and ate on Christmas to return to my favourite spam-sending puritans. They deserve to at least have an idea of what mortals usually do on the 25th. Who knows? I might just give them some ideas. Merry Christmas everyone. Here's hoping it's lentil-free.