When I won in 2003, never in my wildest dreams did I ever think I would win Wimbledon and have my kids seeing me lift the trophy, so this is pretty surreal.I see that they, you know, respect me immensely, and I try to put on a good show and show that I can still play very good tennis. Today it's not a problem anymore actually, because now I enjoy it. And then I would get nervous if my friends came and watched. I used to get nervous, you know if my parents would come watch.Maybe you've already won so much that it evens it out a bit sometimes. But like I said, sometimes in sports it just goes the other way. I did all the right things in so many tournaments.So I used to always run around my backhand, you know, use my forehand as much as I could, and so that's why I think it's my strength also today, you know. not enough powerful to have a good serve when I was young, so my forehand was always my signature shot. The serve, I was too young and too small and.I always wanted to be honest with myself and to those who have had faith in me.I have experienced jealousy, possessiveness, verbal abuse and violence from men, but I have also experienced jealousy, possessiveness, verbal abuse and violence from women, usually when I failed to respond to their advances.When did women whose looks are not their living start conducting themselves like the simpering inmates of an Ottoman empire seraglio?.As a kid, I grew to define what I didn't want my life to be like by sitting behind moaning women on the bus, hearing them bang on about their aches and pains, both real and imagined.Most women are wise to the fact that lots of men love a cat-fight, and thus go out of their way not to give them one.
'Stress' was the catch-all every pamper-pedlar I spoke to used to explain why healthy women feel the need to be regularly patted, petted and preened into a state of babyish beatification.Make no mistake, most women are well aware that they've never had it so good when they enter a spa or salon, it is purely a hair/nails thing, a prelude to an evening of guilt-free fun.These women whose antics we smirk at good-naturedly in the pap-traps put themselves out there at least partly on their beauty they are in showbiz, and showing what they've got is part of their business as much as it is for male show-ponies from the Chippendales to George Clooney.You might know one 'man,' yes, or even lots of individual 'men'. No one knows 'men' as such, any more than anyone knows 'women,' and if they do generalise they're probably trying to hide their own ignorance.It may be a cliche, but it's true - the build-up to Christmas is so much more pleasurable than the actual day itself.One Christmas build-up tradition, however, has totally bypassed me - that of going up to town and 'doing a show.'.But I am infuriated by the growing notion, posited in some touchy-feely quarters, that all women are, or can be, beautiful. I don't really care what people tell children - when you believe in Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy, one more fib won't hurt.
I also apologize for lapping up your was yummy.as was that peanut butter cookie. Last time you startled me as I waz sound asleep. I will try not to shriek and jump on your chest this year when you come down the chimney. The robotic super automated litter box, catnip, laser beam toys, mouse toys and string. As well as batting mama's goldfish around. The Barbie doll's head that went missing.uh.I cannot recall having been involved. The scratching post I employed except for an occasional clawing of the fat leather chair. I only whacked the dog a few times this year. I assure you.I am on your "nice kitty" list. No more banging and digging in tons of litter with my paws. No high volumes of fairy dust for me to inhale. It sweeps all my bathroom type things away. I need my mama cat to obtain a robotic self cleaning shiny globe shaped litter box. My paws are delicate utensils used to shred curtains, whack ornaments, climb Christmas trees.etc. My letter finds me, alas, in my primitive From Siam of ages past with blue topaz eyes
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