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Being married is one thing, but being married to Bret “Hitman” Hart—former five-time World Wrestling Entertainment Champion—is another. In her vibrant and honest memoir, Hart’s ex-wife and the mother of his four children chronicles the ups and downs of balancing life with a superstar husband in the circus world of professional wrestling. Beginning with Julie’s teen years and early romance with Bret, the story follows the couple’s marriage, children, divorce, and continued presence in each other’s lives, culminating in Julie’s growing role as one of the new matriarchs of the ever-expanding Hart family in Calgary. Vividly detailed and humorous, this authentic account of Julie’s life as an individual, wife, mother, sister, and friend is told by, quite arguably, the Hitman’s toughest opponent and greatest ally of all time.
too much to drink, and things got out of hand. Someone started a fire right in the middle of the living room. The next morning I woke up to a huge burn mark on the floor and a dead bird, lying on the bottom of its cage, with its little feet curled up in the air. I’m not sure if it was the smoke or the loud music thumping below its cage that did it, but I knew that Gloria would not react well to the untimely death of her bird, Sweetheart. I had to call Gloria, and admittedly felt a touch of
boyfriend problem and needed to come home. He said okay, to my surprise. I nervously opened the door and ran out to see if the cab was there. Thank God it was. I got to Dad’s hoping they wouldn’t ask me too many questions. I was relieved that they didn’t and that Gloria wasn’t there to rub it in. “If Ed calls, tell him you haven’t seen me in a while,” I told Dad before going downstairs to call Lisa. She said her sister was mad, and didn’t want me around anymore. I said I’d pay for the window
leaned against it and started crying. I don’t know why it meant so much to me to have him tag along, but his refusal stirred up all of my old abandonment issues. I called a cab and waited outside. I didn’t even say goodbye. Bret and I shut each other out in silence and went about our business, as we always did. Once in the cab, I asked the driver to stop off at a convenience store. I wanted cigarettes. It was my little way of telling Bret, “Fuck you, I’m sucking on a smoke and you don’t even
choice. I never really expressed my misgivings about it to Bret; he seemed relieved that I wasn’t making a fuss over it, and I didn’t want to make the situation worse. Soon after, Bret asked me to join him on a trip overseas. I think he’d noticed that I was feeling depressed about our decision and wanted to cheer me up. I couldn’t refuse. Bret was a great person to travel with; it really brought out his sense of adventure. We started in Germany, where he and Jim Neidhart had a wrestling gig.
to watch the kids and flew to the States the next day. I met Bret at an arena and as we walked to the rental car I started mouthing off about his new girl. He stopped and I continued walking. Suddenly, Bret flung a can of Budweiser at me, hitting me on the head. I swung around and charged at him with my purse. Les Thorton, the wrestler, crossed the parking lot and got in the middle of us. I declared that I wasn’t getting in a car with Bret. Bret angrily yelled, “Shut the fuck up and get in