"I used to be terrified of Salma," admits Jen in prefight. "But those days are long gone. I still respect her - Hayek's a hard woman in a division with a lot of pork - but I've grown so much since I started. I've had hard rounds, I've been busier than Salma, I'm in better shape - why wouldn't I beat her? And I mean beat her UP - I'm not going to pussyfoot around Hayek - I'm going to go right at this girl."

Hewitt in lucky white string bikini, hair up, Salma in pale pink bikini, oozing Latina disdain during ring instructions.

ROUND 1: Hewitt driving up into Hayek's rack with unguessed ferocity - little Jen sack-happier than we've ever seen her. Hewitt dipping, getting her shoulders and legs under her and lugging up into Latina jug, shrugging home the hurt, backing Salma up in shock. Not frenzied, shoe-shine stuff - Jen's stacking Salma up, using her legs and hoisting hamhanded shellack up into those puppies. Hayek's eyes shiny with anguish and insult - the NERVE of Jen going rack to open the fight! Bell to bell Hewitt, smearing, stuffing, jug-mugging to her heart's content.

ROUND 2: Salma repays the favour - gorgeous, brutal trade as both girls ignore corners to go a-jugging. Snuggling mouth on shoulder stuff, neither girl wants to slap or cuff: they want to get close and jerk up into the meat, unsatisfied unless each punch is rewarded with a breathy grunt of outrage from the other. Hayek more forceful, backing Hewitt up, bullying her at the ropes. Salma hup-hup-hupping at the bell, giving it to Jen hard - Hewitt misting up, lip curled in protestation - both girls badly savaged in two senseless ROUNDs of sacking.

ROUND 3: Jen changes pace, jabbing between Salma's breasts to line her up and cashing in Latina chin with the hardest punch of the fight: shearing right cross on the teeth torques Hayek's head aside - Salma shook to her toes, stooping forward hurt and JEN GOES JUG! Hewitt grinning wide, shoulders rotating as she reaps a bountiful harvest, shrugging in lefts and rights against Hayek's helpless hooters. Hayek groaning, finally clinching - she gets a ref's break and Jen pours on with gusto. Free-swinging melee - Jen twisting on her hips, laying limber left hand licks on Hayek's jaw, bending and getting the right hand hard off skull - Hayek shipping torrid shellack, stumbling mute, but keeping her feet. Down the stretch, Hayek working out of a tight, tired stance, parks a consistent, WITHERING hook in under Jen's elbow and HEWITT'S CRIPPLED! Jen leaning forward, mouth open, eyes forlorn - Hayek swaying, fighting off sleep herself - girls just pawing and reaching in on each other to prep, then lathering away desperate rights and lefts at the bell. Stupified beauties keep slogging - ref has to break it up, sending both on a tottering reel to respective corners.

ROUND 4: Breathless slugfest continues. Hayek tightens up form - knows she's been a little reckless, this is more professional stuff. Right hand at her cheek - Salma rakes Jen hooks, scouring the abs, digging the liver, spanking flank. Hewitt beaten in stages to the ropes, trying to trade with Hayek but getting shortcircuited by those paralyzing body shots. Down the stretch, Hayek in a smooth bully's rhythm - propping Jen a shoulder, hooking her body, laying in on her - Hewitt's used up when Hayek goes jug in the dying moments. Jennifer sobbing out, gradually dropping her hands to her sides as punishment mounts, head lolling back to bare her throat as she just surrenders to the torture - Hayek mindless as she goes at that rack with pumping, chugging lefts and rights. Salma still helping herself after the bell, all right hands up and in as she exhales "HUH-uh!" with the effort of bludgeoning Jen's breasts. Mesmerized ref finally tackles her off - Hewitt blubbering, slumped in the ropes, tears flowing as just for a moment there - she gave it up to Hayek.

ROUND 5: Salma hounding her foe, walking Jennifer down - Hewitt walking to her right, trying to space Salma out with jabs, occasionally turning on gambling rights to walk Hayek into potshots. Relentless Latina pressure paying off - Hayek's made Jennifer's midsection her own personal playground - going there wanton hooks, shouldering the lithe brunette off and looking for more. Salma glossy with hard working sweat - looks a shaky Hewitt over at the bell and likes what she sees.

ROUND 6: Jennifer slipping, bending at the waist, pivoting to reverse field on Hayek - Salma missing blockbusters, weight out over her feet as she over-swings. Midway through, Jen has the timing, walking Hayek into a gorgeous little counter right uppercut - crowd shouting out on impact as Salma's brought up short. Left uppercut Jen - crowding in close with her left shoulder as she clips it tight, right uppercut chaser - Hayek covering up, backing down. Hewitt tucks a left in under Hayek's elbow, payback in kind, then hoists a shrugging pair into Salma's throbbing rack. Hayek ropeside, eyes moist and JEN GOES ALL-IN! Hewitt letting her hands go - chugging up into thick Mexican melon, then clouting hooks upside the ear, cashing in right hands off the face and THE REF STEPS IN! Good Lord - Jennifer Love Hewitt stops Salma Hayek at the ropes - TKO6!

After: Ringsiders in shock - Hewitt leaping for joy - Hayek slumping, used up, drained and sobbing in the ref's arms. Jen set the tone with that first ROUND jug-mugging and actually got Hayek out of her comfort zone a little. Salma a known slugger, but she's usually much more scientific, placing her shots, wearing foes down - Hewitt got inside Latina head a little bit and made Salma sloppy with the need to answer in kind.

"My jugs stopped her jugs!" Jen gushes non-sensically in post fight. "I knew I could beat her - I KNEW IT! I'm tuff and I punch HARD at this weight - I just think Salma underestimated me and look at her now! Crying!"

Hewitt's slug-lust rewarded - reopens the old breast size/punching power debate as experts pull at any string to explain this outcome.

"I should be headlining PPV events," Kelly tells BLONDE! magazine. "I could knock Shannen Doherty out right now, I'm probably the best looking woman in the division, but I'm not getting my just due. Salma's going to have to pay for all of that."

Ripa in red bikini, white shoes and socks (see Aristide photo for reference), Salma in pale blue bikini with swatches of navy and teal in jazz pattern, spaghetti bra straps, white proper boxing shoes, slick battle bun. Both girls insisting on small gloves.

ROUND ONE: Tempestuous two way, both girls looking to be the boss, no feeling out process. Hayek spitting jabs to rotate left, then in with hooks and right hands against Ripa's rigid ribcage. Kelly jabbing to the chest, shooting the straight right down the pike and coming back artful left hands: hooks and uppercuts, body and head. Chins are checked as both beauties light the opposition up. Crowd groaning as loud, loud body shots sink home, buckling legs, wobbling buttocks. Down the stretch, it's Hayek: bumping a mouth-breathing Ripa against the ropes with left shoulder/extended left elbow, then hopping into hooks - pounding Rip to the face, chest and liver, staying on her heavy to the bell. Punching after the bell? You bet - Salma parks an extra left hook snug and flat on Kelly's liver, leaving blonde sitting in the ropes a-wincing.

ROUND TWO: Ripa gets it back. Another hard working first two minutes with both women absolutely tearing one another up, but it's not wild or reckless: girls are fighting like professionals, getting snug before releasing, keeping their elbows in, moving their heads - typical gritty West Coast action. Ripa focusing her fury on Salma's cushy midriff, hips and down the stretch: Kelly's cleaning up on jug with bad intentions. Hayek backed in stupor to the ropes, eyes bulging as yet another American beauty goes rack in an attempt to crush Salma's spirit. Ripa on top, in close, shrugging lefts and rights up in there, getting goooood short leverage on plump Mexican melon to the bell. Hayek aghast, infuriated, but unable to stop it: Ripa back to her stool with a sunny grin.

ROUND THREE: Hardhearted, grinding action - heads in close, girls working. Kelly will pull on Salma's left elbow to sneak around that flank, get an angle and hook that gut. Hayek back with jerking hooks, constantly seeking out Ripa's liver, then clipping uppercuts, chopping right hands on the ear. Constant press of shoulders bumping on chests, sudden burping bursts of fists on trembling bellies, rich spanking shots loud on flanks behind elbows and both girls harvesting jug with cruel, short cuffing up underneath. Both warned for heeling, elbowing - action's so short and cramped it's hard NOT to do these things. After the bell: heads leaned in together, shoulders rotating, fists chugging - ref has to pull seething beauties apart or they'd go all night without a break.

ROUND FOUR: Mexican fans in the audience with bright, happy faces, often standing during the rounds and applauding like they can't help themselves: this is what they came to see. Girls laying in mouth on shoulder, head to head, leaning in on one another and attempting through sheer siege to break the other's will. Occasionally an arm will ride up around shoulders in weariness, but when it does: ribs and jugs are savaged. Salma especially adept at getting that little left shoulder bump and hooking off it: Kelly catching dumb off her face, sullen as her breasts and waist are consistently thumped. Hayek paying a heavy price as Ripa's tidy little combinations and snap-snatching hooks tuck in between and behind the protective elbows. Down the stretch, Salma woozy with punishment - Kelly's able to muscle her ropeside, holding Latina's right arm behind the elbow to stabilize her for pillaging short right hands to the tummy or swiped hard to the tits. Hayek's eyelashes fluttering, mouth open as Ripa takes what she wants at the bell.

ROUND FIVE: Ripa building on the momentum of the fourth - she's carrying the fight to Salma, forcing her head between Salma's gloves, backing the Mexican beauty up with constant, digging rib, tummy and tit music. Hayek gritting her teeth, setting stocky legs and trying to deny the advance, but that tawny flesh is getting roasted by Ripa's unforgiving fists. All Kelly to the final minute - blonde mopping up hooks when Salma times her, beats her to a hook on the chops which has the blonde staring in confusion. Hayek bending in with a short, tightly looped right hand on the chin, then arching her back to deliver a paralyzing gancha hook to Kelly's liver: blonde crying out, draping her arms around Hayek's neck in a desperate clinch - brunette able to leg-drive limp blonde deadweight to the ropes. Classic Salma: Ripa clinching up top can't stop the merciless bombardment downstairs - Latina shoulders churning as compact wallop pounds Kelly's legs numb. More mindless digging after the bell: Salma's not stopping until she's physically restrained. Inventory at the half way point: both women teetering on the verge of collapse - great wracking breaths on their stools, faces lumping up nicely, ribs cringing away from trainer's touch as both beauties are tender.

ROUND SIX: Hayek with a gorgeous tight left uppercut to open, BURIES the doubled-up left hook in under Kelly's elbow - blonde sobbing aloud, pitching forward - all she can do to keep her feet. Ripa in tatters, stumbling forward, trying to clinch - Hayek stepping back in good order, eyes ablaze as she walks Ripa into punishment, fitting rights and lefts in on quivering rib and tummy meat. Salma neat as she pivots in retreat, turning Kelly, luring her into more. Salma tugging an arm, cuffing an ear - little moves to set up withering hooks downstairs that Kelly's no longer taking well. Ripa open-mouthed, looking hounded, sliding wounded along the ropes - Hayek ruthless as she steps with, stays on and dig-dig-digs away at what's left. Ripa ashen faced in her corner, throbbing, but refusing to quit as ref checks her out.

ROUND SEVEN: Toe to toe, Ripa stands Hayek down, backs her up and goes jug with Hewitt-like ferocity in an attempt to duplicate Jen's miracle. Salma laying in cheek to cheek, grimacing as Ripa works up underneath with jerking clouts to sack - blonde heartless as she tidies up on Hayek's healthy hooters. Hayek production down this round - still parking the hook in Ripa's liver, still easing back and walking Kelly into trouble - but blonde wants it more this round, finishing up strong with Hayek's glistening back on the ropes. Kel with that distinctive mop up look late: right hand holding Hayek behind her left elbow, leaving Latina torso vulnerable to plugging right hands - Ripa showing some apartment wrestling form in working Salma's body in this fashion. Hayek shouting out plaintively as she takes - eyes closed, eyebrows high as Kelly pounds paunch.

ROUND EIGHT: Agonizing give and take as neither beauty wants to win this thing any other way: both totally commited to punching right through the opponent and making her quit. Heads in, shoulders bumping, fists digging, they take turns working each other over, stepping each other back, each camped out stubborn in the other's trunks. Short uppercuts land inside: woozy heads pop up all drowsy, semi-conscious. Girls occasionally struggle to push each other back palms on shoulders or biceps in greasy lock ups: maybe Salma's stronger as Kelly routinely gets her back pressed to rope.

ROUND NINE: Hayek methodical, machine-like as she lays in hot with Kelly, starts churning punches, touching up the belly, smoking a hook behind the elbow, digging a slutty right hand in under the breast line: Kelly doesn't look right. Ripa not answering back, mouth open - she's being stepped back under pressure, eyes glassy, forlorn - Salma presses the pace as Ripa fades. More hooks and harder along the waist, parked snug behind the eblow - Salma's weight on her front foot, right hand at her cheek as she dips and digs 'em in there. Ripa steps back with a sick look of hurt, elbows in and SHE TAKES A KNEE! Kel blinking back tears, all tore up in her gut - she's up at 8 - Salma frowning, pacing in the neutral corner. Hayek up tempoing, overhand right to get Kelly ducking, sumptuous hooks up underneath, straight right hands to get Kelly leaning back and payoff hooks on the chin. Ripa astonished, legs shot, reeling forward and back - she's a ruined, confused beauty and there's just too much Hayek coming at her. Again, Kelly does a slow sink to one knee under a sheet of Hayek leather - Salma thrusting her fists high and bellowing as she stalks away. Rip takes another 8, she's all busted up, nothing left, but ref shouts "FIGHT!" as he backs away...

...and on comes Salma! Hayek merciless, digging in. She's got Ripa crippled, hunkering forward and Salma's just IN there, using the left shoulder/elbow to nudge, prop then she packs that vicious hook in, dotting the right hip area on Kelly with hardhearted precision. It's all too much - Kelly gurgling as she ships a few more ruinous body shots, then she pitches to all fours, spitting her mouthpiece out and choking. Hayek struts away: Ripa sits back on her haunches, hugging her battered, pulsing torso as tears stream down puffy cheeks. KO9 Salma Hayek!!

After: Murderous brawling stuff sees two women pushed to the breaking point - in the end, master of the Mexican body war sees her blonde opponent off with a merciless volley of hooks. Hayek seething with rage at Ripa's deliberate, even wanton jug mugging - Salma wastes no time in hauling a shabby Kelly off her stool, parading her around the ring one time, then tossing her OUT of the ring!

Salma joining Kelly on the floor, helping her up, then Hayek jumps up to sit on the apron, guiding helpless blonde into position between sturdy latina legs, pressing Kel's swollen face to those mouthwatering melons, and Hayek's cinching up. Salma's dark eyes furious, chin digging into Kelly's damp skull, right hand cupped atop Kelly’s head as the reverse sleeper grip keeps her face sealed in nice n' tight. Ripa mewling in protest, pushing down on Salma's rounded thighs, then reaching round her body for a desperate hug, then as panic sinks in, reaching up behind to pull at Salma's shoulders. Hayek just applying crushing pressure waist and face on Kelly, occasionally turning her head to rest her cheek atop Kelly's head. Eventually, Hayek barks at the ring announcer to bring the mic over so the crowd can hear Ripa's muffled whimpering in the background.

Salma shouts, "Americana hootchies, THEES eez whatchoo get if you go to my breasts, comprende? Anyone who even LOOKS at my chest again will suffer as Kelly is suffering."

Just for emphasis, Hayek re-locks her ankles and adjusts her hands on Kelly's scalp, easing back like she's reeling in a huge marlin on a fishing charter. Poor Kelly trapped, getting every last drop used up - she goes out with her arms wrapped light and wet around Salma's hips, hands cupping Mexican backside as Hayek helps herself to a little extra.