Catherine Gigante-Brown

Wrinkles or lifelines? Chunky or curvaceous? The choice is yours.

The overinflated American work ethic is slowly killing us. It’s constantly pushing us to do more — put in longer hours, check business emails on personal time, take calls from our bosses when we’re chilling in Cancun.

Being a little bit chubby is better than being a lot dead.

If the odds of getting cancer are like Powerball, why couldn't I be a scratch-off millionaire?

I asked a handful of women: why are people so scared of ladyparts?

My husband and I agreed: raising a child with an independent spirit who made decisions for himself was a good thing.

Even when I explained to my son that he came from a long line of short people, it didn’t help. David still felt bad about being small. How could a five-year-old possibly get this type of size-shaming message? From other people, mostly insensitive adults. They gave him the idea that bigger was somehow better.

That’s the thing about being a breast cancer survivor — it’s always there: it never goes away. The scars, the fear that lurks in the back of your mind like a boogeyman. You’re going along nicely, living your merry life, and you’re fine, until you’re not.

herbalist. shiatsu practitioner. healer.

I go for checkups when I’m supposed to: every three months to the oncologist and every six months to the breast surgeon. I go to SHARE support group meetings to bolster myself. I try to get enough sleep, despite the occasional night spent wide-eyed with dread.