Confessions of an Old Female Fighter.




Some of this may be too much to handle for some of you, some may have gotten
their asses kicked by me while others may have fucked me up in the past but I
assure you none of this is fantasy pie in the sky bullshit. At my age, 45
years young, it is time to retire! No, not retire from my job since I never
really had a real one, I made my living fighting, pure and simple and I simply
cannot go on this way. Read it and weep so here I go.

My childhood was horrific and could have been a perfect Dr. Phil episode. I
had an abusive, both physically and verbally drunk father and a mother who was
scared of her own shadow and allowed all of this to happen. Neither my sister,
who committed suicide at age 19 as a result of his abusive, violent and
horrible behavior nor my poor brother, who has spent more than 30 of his 51
years in prison, also as a result of my father, escaped his wrath. I was lucky
in that after being beaten to the point of being hospitalized more than once,
just regular every day beatings that included black eyes, bruising and being
knocked unconscious, sexually abused, verbally attacked and many of these
things happened in public but back in those days people did not report it like
they do now plus people were scared of him and rightfully so, eventually at 17
I left home and got married.

I was arrested 3 times before the age of 17, all for beating the shit out of
people and believe me I was lucky it was just 3 occasions. I had 2 abortions
and I slept with two teachers in High School and never graduated. Is that
enough to wrap your mind around?

Meantime, and I guess this was the only good thing that ever happened to me
and my siblings, I guess, was that both of my disgusting parents were
incredibly handsome/pretty/gorgeous people. My father was from Columbia and my
mother was Japanese. Physically they were very handsome and gorgeous since
everything else was grossly horrible. As a result all three of us are if I say
so myself and I don't since everyone agrees, we were all born with great
beauty and my brother is terribly handsome. We also have great bodies and I
never really worked out before age 20 or so. I drank and smoked and did drugs
and was just a VERY VERY bad person all around. Both my parents died some time
ago and both I am sure are in hell where they belong. My father's death was a
violent one that he deserved and my mother died with dementia in a home. Sad
stuff!!

I started fighting from... well, I never remember not fighting to be honest.
Ido not wrestle, kickbox, do judo or anything else, purely used my fists,
period end of story. We had our little gang back in junior high school where
we would beat up anyone we could. We did not use clubs, knives, or any other
type of weapon nor did we ever steal anything from a store or rob any
individual, it was all about fighting and intimidation and being the baddest.

Yes, damn straight we got our asses kicked too but we did damage. I was
sexually active by the time I was 13, smoking cigarettes, drinking, and I
personally was beating the fuck out of any girl in HIGH SCHOOL, yes girls who
were 18 years old. I would punch the fuck out of them and destroy them, take
their boyfriends and do whatever I wanted. By the time I was 15 I was easily
knocking out cold any woman my age, and they first boy I knocked out was a
year older than me and that was quite momentous, in this wooded area in front
ofhis friends and discovered what I was really capable of with my fists. Oh,
andI broke my left hand that day too on his face/head or who knows?

Always I was the prettiest on the outside but demons on the inside. At 16 I
was sleeping with the History teacher, who was married. One day in this one
location that was private near this lake where I fought a lot we started
smoking pot and kissing and he pushed me and said, well he said I should just
give him oral. Therewas something DAD LIKE about that and I snapped and I mean
snapped badly. He was about my height of 5'7 so maybe he was 5'9 and I blacked
out and by the time I realized what I was doing I had him by his hair, his
face was a mask of blood and he was unconscious from god knows how many
punches in his face as I straddled him, I was crying for some reason and I let
him go and stood over his body weeping like I never have cried in my life. I
was not scared but more sad at my own actions and not fully realizing it. As
therapy taught me, I was scared of what I was capable of doing to another
human being. He ended up with a broken nose and concussion and I was arrested
after that for assault. And believe me he was not some wimp since I NEVER
would fuck some wimpy shit ass guy.

It was that fighting was what I knew best, I was beaten by my father forever,
I was all about the violence, I could take a punch or a slap or a kick and I
can dish it out, it came naturally to me. When I fought I EXPLODED with such a
fierce, aggressive violence that, unless you too came from that disgusting
world, you were just overwhelmed. I could not tell you about the fight in
terms of exactly how I first hit him or anything else since it was a blackout
for me but I can guarantee you that he was overwhelmed and had zero chance of
stopping me.

The charges went away since I was so young and he was the teacher and they (my
lawyer) said it was attempted rape, which it was not. I fucked this guy at
least 10 times before that, all voluntarily. Plus, if anyone did try to rape
me, after my scumbag father did 4 times, I would kill him! He got divorced and
fired from his job and the whole thing was just one more terrible part of my
young life.

By then my reputation was one to be feared by both sexes, period. I admit my
looks got me by a lot since I am so pretty, some say beautiful, I do not look
the part of who I really am or was. I was a violent miscreant who hurt a lot
of innocent people, some not so innocent perhaps. I used drugs and I slept
around with whomever I wanted to plus I came from a family of hell. But, I
looked nothing like that and I was blessed with a great body that did not
require any working out.

At that point besides having great body I did not have any muscles or
anything, I was just 5'7 and maybe 130 pounds so physically not intimidating
but to say I was fearless would be an understatement, I would go after anyone
at any time, period. Make no mistake about it being so brazenly stupid I got
my ass kicked plenty, rarely if ever by another female but that too happened
prior to age 17.

I remember some huge fat chick took me on at around that time and it took some
doing but she got me good. Up to that point the only person to knock me out
cold was my fucked up father plus this one guy I will not mention ever, since
he sucked, and this fat woman. Believe it or not that was something I was
proud of back then. As crazy as it may sound her and I became good friends for
a while until I moved away for good. We never fought each other again but we
fought as a "team" against guys 4 different times and I have to say as sick as
it sounds, that was a lot of fucking fun. Me looking the way I did, and her
being big and heavy (fat) we would find these guys who would fight us for
money and we ALWAYS won big time, I mean big big time. We fought these two
guys once who fought us for $500 winner take all -- plus if they won I would
have to blow them both. Not only did we beat them both unconscious, we
stripped them both naked and called the police to report these naked guys by
the lake. We watched the whole thing from the woods as the police got them,
naked as jaybirds, beaten bloody, crying, panicky, and humiliated and we
laughed ourselves silly watching this whole thing. Her and I never lost a
"team" fight. No idea where she is now.

At 17 it was time to get out of Dodge as they say. I got married to a guy who
was 26. Let's say not the best choice of my life, and to be honest as I look
back and after all of my therapy I knew it then. Danny was a jerk but at least
he could offer me a better life than I had at the time. He was a plumber,
good- hearted in many ways, a hunk in every way, like my next 2 husbands, but
a drunk. And we all know where that leads us at some point.

We fought all the time, verbally with some rough stuff and eventually a lot of
rough stuff. Look, I was and still am a VERY good fighter with my fists so I
was able to hold my own up to a point. But when he was drunk I had the
advantage and some of these fights were terrible. Neighbors would call the
police and both of us ended up in the hospital multiple times, sick sick
stuff. I knew it was time to leave but the final straw that broke this camel's
back was when I found him in my bed with another woman. Needless to say I
fucked her up beyond words, never saw her before or after, and I also kicked
his drunk ass to the point he was babbling and bawling like a drunken scumbag
he was. I threw them both out on the front lawn, and although he tried to come
back I was done.

Money was tight for a while but finding another guy was as easy as pie for me
and that's what I did. Plus I sold the engagement ring, and since he was in
the union I had other benefits. His mother also was not a model citizen, but
she liked me a lot and she helped me quite a bit.

By the time I was 20 I was married again, but to a much nicer guy in many
ways. I was still a violent asshole I admit. Cary was well-educated, a nice
guy, a man's man in a lot of ways, and really loved me. He was way too good
for me no question. We came from different worlds and there was something we
both loved about each other, but my past was still in my present. He bought us
a nice house, he got me into boxing classes, formal boxing classes, I stopped
smoking, and we did a lot of normal things together. Unfortunately my past was
always right there.

So some examples, I was the only person in these boxing classes with real
fighting experiences and I unleashed my fury on the few women in the class and
then I moved on to the men. At first, I had no form at all and zero stamina.
But I had what they did not: experience, fearlessness, and the ability to give
and take a punch ESPECIALLY with padded gloves. The first time I "sparred"
with a guy, who was bigger and older and all of that, I fucking destroyed him.
They pulled me away and off him and he fell to the ground and when he was
finally able to stand up cursed me out and called me all sorts of names. I
later ended up beating him in his basement on his day off and slept with him
afterwards. Like I said, I was still a violent asshole in soooo many ways. But
the class did teach me a lot and I will get into that later.

Meanwhile, for the first time in my life I had friends, normal friends as a
couple, and did a lot of the things I heard normal people do. But as always,
my past surfaced, and in ugly ways. First, due to my great body and looks, two
of our male friends made very outward passes to me that I accepted. I slept
with the first one on his boat while his wife was away visiting her sick
parents in another state. The second case, I slept with him in my own house
while my husband was away on a 2-day business trip. In both cases, and as
usual, these guys wanted to repeat this terrible behavior and in both cases I
had to beat them up, not terrible but bad enough they had to make up excuses
to their spouses why they had black eyes.

Then, the worse shit happens, but not a total shock to me, and I write this
like I write a lot of this shit with a LOT of regret. After perhaps too much
drinking at a great club in Vegas on a 3-day vacation, and too much flaunting
my body on the dance floor, my husband became very jealous of the attention I
was receiving. One word led to another, and back in our hotel suite I hit him
and truthfully went a little overboard since he was right, on hindsight. It
was messy even though I knew ALL TOO WELL, it could have been a crap load
worse for him. In any event, I knew that was a line I should never have
crossed and within a short time we were divorced. But this time I received the
house and a lot, lot more even though I wished the incident never occurred. I
moved again, to another state, and to this day regret beating him up as I know
it greatly affected his manhood, no surprise of course, but he loved me more
than any guy did up to that point.

Yes, I tried to make up with him, but he was too humiliated and fully realized
that he was no match for me physically, nor could he ever be. How could he...
I have way too much experience, and I am sad about that too. My third marriage
was better on all accounts. Therapy helped a lot that's for sure, but I was --
and still am -- a fucked up person. I freely admit that but better.

By the third marriage I had some financial security as a result of my last
divorces and the money I earned as a private fighter. I did a lot of that kind
of thing. It's basically where I would enter these very private tournaments,
really got invited to them, or even better when someone would hire me to fight
their professionally-trained wives, in most cases but there involved men too.

Basically these were really wealthy people whose women had earned some kind of
blackbelt in something I never heard of, or was this "killer" amongst her rich
friends. Usually blondes, usually sculptured physiques, who beat up some
lesser person and maybe some guys, and through some people wanted to prove to
a bunch of their friends that they were rich/gorgeous and had this amazing
fighting skill. More often than not they were well-trained. BUT, and this is
the major but, they could not take a punch and really were nothing much if
compared to a real fighter.

The pay was really amazing; they would put me into some 5-star hotels and
shower me with gifts and offers afterwards. The first few times I did this
kind of fight I made mincemeat out of these women. I mean I would whip some
ass, seriously, and get paid a lot of money. Some quit, most were knocked out
colder than dirt, some were sent to the hospital with a broken this or that,
and never was one fought a second time. There were two exceptions where the
women could actually give and take, but still not at my level.

Here is a classic story that happened to me at one of these highly paid
matches out in Colorado. After flying me in first class and putting me and a
friend up in a seriously beautiful hotel, the next day we were picked up and
driven to this multi-acre mansion. There were about 40 people present and I
had to weigh in with my opponent. She was a little thing, maybe 5'4, blonde,
tanned, and RIPPED. I mean this chick had to live in a gym. Talking 8 pack,
not 6, biceps, defined legs, the whole 9, and a seriously shit attitude.

She looks me over and says, "This is what you brought me to destroy?" I
laughed inside but also saw red, as I know ALL TOO WELL not to judge a book by
its cover when it comes to fighting. Then she starts listing all of these
martial arts she does and all of her belts and sticks out her fake tits and
tells me how badly she is going to enjoy kicking my black ass. OK, first off I
say to myself, you are fucking dead. Second, I may have olive/darkish skin but
black? That was a first.

So we get ready to fight on this lawn that was as nice as a golf course, not
that I ever played, but I have been on them for a variety of reasons. I wore
the 8-oz gloves they gave me, a tanktop, shorts and sneakers, all my usual
attire. But she wore this glittery shiny outfit that had to be made just for
her, like a sports bra with matching everything AND make up!!! Yes, she wore
makeup. I swear!!!

Now, I am 100% heterosexual, no desire to fuck a woman, but she was facing me
with her nipples jutting out like she was hot for me. Plus, fighting is NOT a
sexual activity for me in any way, never has been. I could not wait to hurt
her, so when all of her friends gathered around betting each other, some guy
says to my friend that he would bet 10 to one that I would be KO'd in the
first and another 10:1 that I would end up in a hospital after big bad Sheri
rips me apart. He told me about this and told him to bet everything we had,
which was $1,000, on EACH bet. Not that I needed any more incentive but it did
not hurt.

So when some guy said, "begin" all I can say is: yes she was strong, which to
me only meant she was able to absorb more damage... and that's exactly what
happened. She came at me guns ablazin', but once I connected that first right
hook to her fucking jaw I owned her. I took my time beating her like a rug and
trying hard not to knock this bitch out until I made her pay with some pain. I
was able to keep her upright for just about three rounds when I put her out.

There she laid, Ms triple blackbelt muscled bullshit, flat on her back,
bleeding, eyes swollen, welts on her perfect 8-pac sleeping away like the fake
bitch she was. I was paid $4,500 plus roundtrip first class air, plus 4 days
at this great resort, to which I added three more days, PLUS all the cash from
the betting, and yes of course all cash, so it was some nice way to make
money. I had a slightly swollen left eye so big fucking deal.

That was one of the better fights in terms of money, but all were great
experiences that did not require much from me. At that point, I was doing a
lot of "real" boxing at the gym rather than my old and stupid barefisted shit,
plus for the first time I was lifting weights and exercising correctly.

Before, I used to do a shit ton of pushups and sit-ups, but the weights helped
a lot in many ways. I am not into muscles or anything, but the weight training
did add on a lot of strong muscles and weight (I was fighting at 140-145
pounds, versus130 back in the day). And some of the muscles I actually liked,
such as biceps and stuff. It did look good on my body when I wore dresses and
things, but still, I was never a big muscle person. I know all too well that
these younger women are all well-trained and hard-bodied, versus my day.

Anyway, I had money and things by the time I married number 3, a well-heeled
and lovely dentist who could not do enough for me. Nobody I would ever lay a
hand on due to his size, mentality and really his sweetness; plus, like I
said, the therapy was helping me a lot. But, as the case is, after 3 years it
was clear he could not satisfy me. Not man enough; literally scared of me when
we argued; and like I said, we never got physical with each other, and I
guess, sad to say, no match for me in the bedroom... and that was and still is
very important to me. I did not cheat on him until the end, and really only
because I needed a real man to sexually satisfy me. Although we got divorced,
and I did rather well since I would not sign a prenuptial. Even though
everyone told him I should, and they were right, we are still friends. I still
live in San Diego, and sometimes bump into him and even have a date night
thing with him. He is remarried with kids, but still gives me very nice gifts
a few times a year. Perhaps if my head was screwed on right we would still be
together.

So here we are. I am a little more normal as years of therapy has helped me. I
am no longer outwardly violent towards people, although I know it is still in
there. I am financially secure and I have not done more than 4 fights per year
in the past 5 years. I have a great boyfriend who knows everything about my
past since I may have been one super fucked up person, but I was never a liar.
Life is pretty good.

At my age it is clear I should stop fighting especially seeing what these
young girls can physically do. They always lead a clean lifestyle, have
coaches, are all well trained, have been lifting and doing all kinds of shit
to make them really lethal. Last year I lost 2 fights with young woman in
their 20's. They hit like men and could take a punch better than most of the
men I knew back in the day. I think it's over for me, and that is why I wanted
to write this as an informational piece, and maybe even as a historical piece
which some may find interesting.

I do regret all the people I hurt; more than I can count, and some pretty bad.
I regret humiliating all the men I did, or at least most since some deserved
it I firmly believe. With therapy I understand how I devastated their lives
and I am sorry for that. Look, I was damaged goods, period. I regret screwing
up some of my marriages since some were really nice men. But all in all with
my horrible upbringing I did OK. My sister committed suicide and my brother
has spent most of his life in jail and I was lucky enough to survive my
childhood where they could not.

Well, off to the gym soon to lift and hit some bags ... they do not hit back!
LOL