I am not a piece of meat! I do matter! I do count! I am somebody! I am! I am!"" A new primal-scream therapy? A beer commercial? No, just an example of the level of expression in this jivey, self-indulgent slurp of true confessions from Elizabeth Ashley, a ""moderately famous, slightly aging lady of stage, screen, and TV."" Elizabeth is here to tell you about her unique brand of flat-chested sexuality, about her abortion, her nervous breakdown during Barefoot in the Park, her marriages to James Farentino and George Peppard (poor George), and her noble fight over a broken movie contract--which supposedly killed her Hollywood career (""I could no more play ball than I could sprout wings and fly to the moon""). Though gorgeous George beat on her and she threatened him with a gun a couple of times, they did have a baby (""I exist! I really exist!""), but you don't hear much about the baby once semi-retired Elizabeth goes back into circulation, career-wise and sex-wise. She scores on Mission: Impossible (""I went for the gusto and got it. I did it all the way""), plays Maggie in Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, and finally finds a man who can match her appetites (""I'm into OD sex, excessive sex"")--screenwriter Thomas McGuane, he of the ""thick black hair hanging all the way down to his waist."" McGuane is married, but wife Becky is open-minded (""Becky, you're a far-out lady""), so all is cool in Elizabeth's ""head space"" till she hits insatiable rover McGuane with an iron lamp (""You mean you were fucking her in my bed?""). Hot stuff for People magazine subscribers, but just an old, sad, dirty song for anyone, who, like George Peppard, believes that actresses are ""all sick, fucked-up women. . . .