At my first amateur fight, I was seven years old. My dad took me to go fight San Diego.

My dad always used to tell me that if they challenge you to an after-school fight, tell them you won't wait-you can kick their ass right now.

I always had a fetish for fighting big peoples. My dad put me in the ring with much bigger guys. In my first fight, I gave the guy a 14-pound advantage.

I didn't care about anyone or listen to nobody, only my father or mother. I would fight my coaches and say: 'Who are you to scream or shout at me? Are you my dad? Talk to me normally.'

My dad was the way he was, but he also gave me a motto: never say die. Just to keep pushing and pushing, fighting until the end. He put it in my head that you're always going to fight, and you're always going to beat them.

When I was 15, I fought a guy who was 26 and he was 20-0, undefeated. It was a way for my dad to show me that I was better than I thought. I ended up beating the brakes off this 26-year-old guy. After the fight, the announcer asked my opponent how it felt. He answered, 'I wonder why I stepped in the ring with that boy.'

I can remember 1987 when I had my first amateur fight in Michigan, weighing 64lb. I was 10 years old. I was the youngest and smallest guy on my team. I can remember what I ate. There was this restaurant called Ponderosa, and my dad made me eat a steak. I was happy. It was a first round knockout. I slept with my trophy for two weeks.

I mean, being a stuntwoman never occurred to me until I gave up gymnastics and started doing martial arts and met people that were stunt people. I was like, 'What? Wait. You get to fight and flip and get paid?' I was like, 'Mum, dad, check this out - I could do this stuff and get paid instead of having you guys pay for me to do it.'

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