There was a girl fight last week. Mercer Islander Carla Wilcox had been waiting for it for years.

At a casino just outside of New Orleans, Wilcox, 32, fought the most important match-up of her burgeoning career, a bout that could have set up her future as a respected, winning boxer who could be a contender for the women's Featherweight title in the next few years.

Wilcox lost the four-round fight in a unanimous decision, putting her professional record at one win and two loses.

But the nationally televised fight put Wilcox in front of promoters across the country. She hopes that exposure will lead to more fights, and ultimately, a world title. In the world of women's boxing, getting noticed is half the battle.

And though the sport is growing, there are so few women in the sport that finding competitors in the right weight and ability range is not easy, Wilcox said.

For the last two months, every move Wilcox made was about the fight. She consumed 3,000 carefully counted calories a day from a lot of protein and very little fat. Early mornings were spent on the streets of Mercer Island, running five to 10 miles while shadow-boxing.

After a soak in Epsom salts, there were long days working at her own Capitol Hill gym, coaching people to fitness through cardiovascular workouts and weight training. The nights were hers, to work more on herself by running, biking, sparring and lifting weights.

Diminutive at first glance, her 5'2'', 122-pound body belies her true power. A second look at her broad shoulders, tough-guy gait and fierce glare make apparent her strength and will to win.

Though she describes herself as ultra-competitive, that's not all there is to her.

``I'm gentle and kind-hearted,'' she said. ``And I box. I love to box.''

Where some see brutality in the sport, Wilcox sees beauty. Where critics see gratuitous violence, bruises and blood, she sees the grace of a well-placed punch, the honor of good sportsmanship, the dignity and pride found in a solid fight.

Where some can't fathom why a woman would step into a ring to get a beating, Wilcox sees the determination, confidence and strength women find when they're engaged in the battle.

For Wilcox, a fight is an emotional experience. She won't deny that. In fact, she's proud of it and believes that's something women bring to the sport that men have kept hidden. Emotion in the ring, she said, makes her push herself. And it helps interest others in the much-maligned sport.

``It makes it personal, and people like to watch that,'' she said.

``Eighty percent of the time, if there's a girl fight, it's the best fight of the night,'' said Wilcox's trainer and manager, Kirk Jensen.

In her almost dozen amateur and professional bouts, Wilcox has become a thoughtful fighter, writing out her game plan at the breakfast table the morning of her fights. The competition, she tells herself, is with herself, not with her opponent.

``I don't see her, I don't know her and I don't know what she's doing,'' Wilcox said. ``I don't really care.''

Jensen, however, does keep an eye on Wilcox's opponents. Wilcox and her most recent rival, Raquelle Tebo, were evenly matched, he said, with similar amateur and professional records and the same height and weight.

In addition to her three professional fights, Wilcox has nine amateur fights under her belt with a 7-2 record, including six knockouts. She's fought around the country and in Canada.

At a recent four-round exhibition fight at a Bellevue gym, Wilcox prepared for the event by soaking in a hot bath beforehand and making sure her hair looked just right, even though it would be slicked down with Vaseline and covered with a sparring helmet before the match.

Trying to appear cool, Wilcox actually showed her anxiety in the hour before the fight as she jumped up and down, practiced jabs and did push-ups in a dark, back hallway that reeked of sweat and Bengay.

Jensen gave her a pep talk and rubbed more Vaseline on Wilcox's face so any punches her opponent landed could slide off.

Although the exhibition fight declared no technical winner, Wilcox did appear to perform better than her opponent, exhausting her with punch after punch and forcing her on the ropes for much of the match. It was a warm-up for the New Orleans battle, but not an indicator of its outcome.

After fighting what she thought was a strong four rounds in New Orleans, Wilcox said she was shocked when the judges favored Tebo. She chalks it up to showbiz.

``I felt that I had a great fight,'' Wilcox said. ``I don't have any bad feelings about it. I was prepared and focused.''

The loss is not a setback of any fashion for the boxer. In fact, it's a leap forward, she said, because she learned lessons to take to the ring in her next fight, such as being more aggressive from the start.

``If you stop every time the judges don't rule in your favor, you weren't really meant to be in the ring in the first place,'' Wilcox said.

Part Cherokee and part Snohomish Indian, Wilcox grew up on a reservation in Eastern Washington, where her nearest neighbors were a few miles away. To see them, she ran. She was an athlete from a young age, playing basketball, softball and soccer, and lifting weights throughout her childhood.

During high school she worked as a towel girl at a gym, cleaning up after people and soaking up the environment. Even then, Wilcox realized that for her, being athletic means maintaining a connection between the mind and the body.

``It kept me sane and clear,'' she said.

Attending Seattle University, Wilcox realized she wanted to become a personal trainer and have her own gym. She opened a gym on Seattle's Capitol Hill, training and teaching, working seven days a week. One fateful day, a client told Wilcox her power would make her a great boxer.

Wilcox wasn't sold on the idea of boxing right away, and her client spent the next year pestering her about it. Finally, she relented. At a local boxing gym, Wilcox jumped rope for hours and did thousands of sit-ups before the moment when she realized she had found what would drive her life for years to come.

Breathing heavily and sweating from a fight he just finished, a coach rolled wads of white tape around Wilcox's hands in the ceremonial preparation for her first round of hitting the punching bag. It was years ago, but it was a ``spiritual, intense'' moment that she's never forgotten, she said.

``I felt at home, and I never left,'' Wilcox said.

It was six months before she first sparred with a partner. Having never watched a boxing match before she stepped into the boxing gym, Wilcox had to learn the mechanics of fighting -- how to throw a proper hook, how to evade an incoming jab, how to shuffle and position herself. And it wasn't long before she was in for good.

``After sparring, I realized it wasn't just a workout for me. It was much deeper,'' she said.

In her first sparring match, her first time really getting hit, much became clear to Wilcox about what it means to be a woman in the male-dominated sport of boxing. It was an emotional experience to be hit in the head, to be hit hard, to not feel overwhelmed by it, she said.

``Our instincts are to feel violated and not hit back, but I had to,'' she said.

At the gym almost every day after that, she's in front of the mirror skipping rope, dropping the rest of her day at the door. Then it's on to the punching bag, and finally, into the ring.

Boxing has focused her life, has taught her to have discipline, goals and integrity. She's always in search of her weaknesses, in all areas of her life, and for ways to correct them. Boxing shows her the way, she said.

``Carla's got talent, but her biggest thing is heart and desire, and that's what makes a champion,'' Jensen said.