I think the reasonwas that I was very confident of myself. My father taught me how to boxwhen I was four years old and we had sparred for three years....I love mydad and he loved me, which was why he was raising me as a man."It will never hurt you to know how to box, son, and maybe it will comein handy some day," he said, as we weaved and jabbed.Dad was always careful not to hurt me, but let me know each punch couldhurt if not blocked properly.Getting back to Frank, he decided to step up his. It was amazing. I hadn't really noticed thateither.She had only popped in for light provisions. She left soon afterwards.I started to make myself a big dinner of pizza and chips. Then Ipaused. I looked at myself in the little mirror on the side of thecupboards and thought, "What am I doing?" Sad, enormous eyes staredback at me through my thick glasses. But I shrugged. Somehow, the ideaof being fat seemed kind of nice. It seemed kind of safe.I put the grill on.We had a week left of the. More

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