Catherine Gigante-Brown

I try. I really do. But whenever I attempt to embrace my husband Peter’s Cuban culture, I always screw up.

Makeup and I have always had a love/hate relationship: I love it; it hates me.

After I got over the initial devastation, I pulled myself up by my big-girl panties and got on with it. Chemo was no picnic—but it was do-able.

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

Having someone steal my cancer history and co-opt it for their first-person Facebook blog is unbelievably violating. Somehow, it feels almost as invasive as my mastectomy.

erotic. intimate. unapologetic.

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

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

When David was about 12, he told me that he wanted to take the train to school alone. My gut reaction was, “No way in hell!” I mean, we live in a safe neighborhood and all, but David has ADHD and was easily distracted. What if he missed his stop? What if someone messed with him?

"I was afraid this thing was going to do me in. But I took a deep breath and decided very early on that I would face cancer on my own terms."