My first "Real" man was my father, and his manliness was asserted bycoming home drunk and beating his wife and daughter on a regular basis.As ashamed ...s I am to admit it, the happiest day in my young life waswhen he died from a stress induced heart attack when I was thirteen.Maybe the fact that he died while beating my mother so bad she requiredweeks of hospitalization was enough to salve any grief I might have knownotherwise.----My second "Real" man was this nice, sweet basketball player at my. With the addition of the sports bras, she worked out hard on the tread mill, the stair machine and the elliptical … but at a pace that had her stopping every few seconds … then starting again … and again … and again. Her stomach muscles were so sore that she couldn’t do ANY crunches … but that didn’t stop her from trying … over and over and over again. It was agony! And now, on top of everything else, she was hungry. Almost all the time. She complained to Betty, but her pleas fell on deaf ears.. More

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