BREMERTON, Wash. -- Margaret McGregor was caught with her guard down earlier this week in Seattle, where she put in an appearance on an afternoon television show.

The inquiries about her troubled past, about the three years she spent in prison for selling drugs, weren't expected, but it didn't shake her.

McGregor's not proud about that part of her life, but she deals with those dark times when people bring it up -- as they have in the days leading up to Saturday night's history-making man vs. woman fight at Seattle's Mercer Arena.

McGregor, however, wasn't prepared to deal with the in-your-face stuff that the local ABC affiliate presented to her before the cameras started rolling.

McGregor reluctantly agreed to wear makeup, but the ruby red lips and blush that covered the distinct cheekbones on her chiseled face, well, it just wasn't her.

McGregor knew it and her suspicions were confirmed later that night when she was laying in bed, watching a replay of the program that had aired live earlier in the day.

"That wasn't me," McGregor said the next day in the gym, scraping at her face. "I still can't get it all off. That was ridiculous."

Well, just who is this 36-year-old woman who has intentions of rearranging Loi Chow's face? And what's she trying to prove? The four-round fight, the last on a card that begins at 7 p.m., will cap an enjoyable, but hectic three week-period for McGregor, who will collect a $1,500 paycheck, same as Chow, when it's all over.

"The money for this fight is not as important as the opportunities that will come from this," said her trainer, Vern Miller, who believes McGregor can be a world champion in women's boxing.

"She has the skills and she has the toughness," said Miller. Opponents of the female variety, however, have been difficult to find, which explains why McGregor agreed to take on a man in a bout that's being closely watched by a boxing world that really doesn't want to watch.

McGregor, 3-0 against women opponents, has taken her skills and conditioning to much higher levels since she made her debut in April at the Kitsap Pavilion, where she won a close decision over Spokane's Layla McCarter.

"She's quicker, with her feet and her hands, and she's hitting with more power," Miller said.

During training for this fight, the 5-foot-5, 130-pound McGregor dropped Phil Gribbon, who weighs 220 pounds, with an uppercut under the chin.

"I think she's better now than she was a week ago," said Juan Rodriguez, 43, after a recent sparring session. "Her power has really increased. She's sneaking a lot more punches in there. And she can take a good punch."

Her boyfriend, truck driver Mike Hopkins, will work her corner of the ring tonight.

"I'm getting anxious now," he said. "I never second-guessed it. If that's what it takes to get name out there, I think it's fantastic.

"Maybe somebody will be interested in her after this fight. It's pretty much her last chance."

McGregor's talked about going back to school and having children, or perhaps counseling youth on a part-time basis. She enjoys landscape work, likes knocking down trees with her chain saw and working on her truck. But she's not ready to give up on her dreams.

She's a fighter. It's what she's always done best.

"Boxing's about adrenaline and guts and courage," Miller said. "It doesn't have anything to do with pulling your head in like a turtle. Margaret's got more guts and courage than just about anybody I've ever seen. She likes to fight."

McGregor's always considered herself "the girl Rocky." But she doesn't understand all the fuss about this fight against a man.

"I'm a woman. I'm very secure in that," McGregor said. "People ask if I'm crazy. No, it's just something that fulfills me. I think I was made to fight."

Her opponent, Chow, has been talking big.

"If she can get past my first punch, I'll be surprised," said the Vancouver fighter who lost his only two previous pro fights, both in 1996.

McGregor prefers the humble approach, but, like most boxers, can also get caught up in the smack talking.

"I'm not nervous about Loi Chow," she said. "I'm going to rock his world. This ain't no party, this ain't no disco. ... Loi Chow's going down."

McGregor picked up the nickname "Tiger" after punching out a drunk who was giving the street kids she hung out with in downtown Bremerton a bad time. Now she hopes she can be a role model to troubled teens.

"I really do hope that," she said. "That's when trouble begins, when you're young. For me it did. I remember when I was young, I used to break things or get into fights because of negative thinking. I dealt with anger issues inappropriately. Now, I save it for the ring. Now, maybe I can help turn a kid from going down the wrong road."

McGregor can't explain why she took the path she did. Her parents, Mick and Lois McGregor, who still live in Seabeck, provided a loving home life and supported her, just like they did their four other daughters.

But Margaret, the tomboy of the family, was different.

"I always liked to be physical and active," she said. "My younger sister was really into Barbie. I liked Tonka and Matchbox cars. Sometimes I'd get in fights with my sister and bite the heads and feet off the Barbie dolls."

A marriage in her early 20s ended in divorce after her husband hauled off and hit her during an argument. By then, she was studying Butokukan karate, "which kept me out of a lot of trouble," she said.

Enamored with martial arts, McGregor eventually enrolled in one of Miller's kung fu classes and ventured into full-contact fighting in 1990. She was 8-0-1 as a professional kick boxer, winning a pair of world titles. But a draw against Bellevue's Kim Messer, a fighter she'd defeated in an earlier match, left her "devastated," at a time when she was starting to get heavier into drugs.

"I was already going down some," said McGregor, "but that just slammed me down. I was upset about the whole situation."

McGregor disappeared from the gym. Kick-boxing never paid the bills, anyway. Struggling, she was arrested for using a stolen credit card in 1994. Later that summer, she "got popped" on two counts of delivering a controlled substance to an undercover office. She pled guilty and received a 51-month sentence, which she spent at the women's penitentiary in Purdy and at pre-release facilities in Spokane and Tacoma.

Through it all, she never lost her desire to stay fit.

She shadow-boxed in her cell and made a makeshift punching bag by tying a mattress to poles and worked out while other inmates made sure the guards weren't near.

There were times of depression, especially after she was sent to Spokane, away from family and friends who were very supportive and visited her on a regular basis.

Those were tough times, but McGregor says she "draws strength" from her prison time.

"I remember where I came from," she said. "I learned from the experience. I'll never sell drugs again. I created monsters and I'm not proud of that. I probably ruined families. Instead of buying food or diapers, people would come to me for dope."

McGregor knows what it's like to be addicted to drugs. And she knows what it's like to cry out for help and not get any.

"I tried to get help before," she said. "I turned myself into the police once, but they couldn't do anything for me. A few years later, my parents' insurance provider turned down a request when I sought drug treatment.

"I gave up. I gave up a lot of the time. I'd just tell myself, 'It looks like they want me to be an addict.'"

Through is all, she's maintained her sense of humor. The other day, after posing for more photos, she proclaimed that she wanted to be on a Wheaties box.

"I saw the Tiger Woods box," she said. "Wouldn't it be cool to have another Tiger on the Wheaties box?"

If she beats Loi Chow, proving her skeptics wrong, would she be willing to take on a higher-profile male fighter?

"Hey, I like to fight, but I'm not dumb," she said.

(Chuck Stark writes for The Sun in Bremerton, Wash.)