IT seems can be a bit of hard work. Or at least that's what I have heard. I know, right? Incredible.
And it was from another woman, this nasty tidbit titbit came. Aghast. What about the sisterhood?
Immediately, upon taking possession of this little nugget of insight, I took exception. Terrible exception. I'm not hard work. Surely.
I was affronted. Offended. Hurt. Cranky. Really cranky. But then, as that all wore off, my confidence rekindled and I started to see this for what it was.
Then my little emotional panel beater started to right the wrongs. You see, hard work, like beauty, is all in the eye of the beholder.
I'm no saint (God knows, that is the truth). I'm not the perfect mother, lover, daughter, sister, friend.
I over-think, over-react, over-analyse. I pontificate, deliberate and catastrophise.
And while (I'd like to think) my moral compass is pretty well calibrated, I'm not the last bastion of wholesome values and goodness.
At one time or another, that's something we are all guilty of. Yes. We can all be hard work from time to time.
But the clincher - as always - is in the context.
It's basic physics. Newton's law: for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.
When emotionally poked, prodded and provoked, there should be no surprise when the reaction is not all rose cologne and sauvignon blanc - especially when there is a polar divide in moral orientation.
But sadly, to the misinformed, the delusional and the plain skanky, it's not so much a surprise as a scoff and a lack of belief that their bad behaviour is not being accepted, much less well received.
To them, I don't apologise. If that makes me - and those of you who relate - hard work, then the rest can suck it up.
You don't, won't, and will never get it. Because what makes us hard work makes us worth the effort - dare I say, fabulous even.
And there's just no telling what the accusation of such says about those intent on delivering it.
This column is featured in APN's new Weekend Magazine. Don't miss your weekend lift-out each Saturday