Catherine Gigante-Brown

What Stephen didn’t know –– what no one knew –– was how weak my knees grew when I pushed through the swinging doors of the ICU.

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

I realized my father was from a generation that never said those three little words. He was saying he loved me without them. But I didn't realize it then.

sex sage. fetish specialist. author.

You learn a lot about people when you live in their home. The Taylors seemed to lead a joyless, Spartan existence.

It sounded too good to be true: comfortable, attractive bra inserts for breast cancer survivors like me. I got on the computer, checked out their website, and immediately put in for one.

From New York to LA, this lady knows a good story.

I’m boycotting you until you start recognizing breast cancer survivors like me by carrying mastectomy bras.

As a breast cancer survivor, the worst day of the year is when I go for my mammogram. True, nobody actually likes mammos, but I’ve been bitten by one. On the way to my annual squishing, I realized that I have a bunch of coping strategies.

raunchy renaissance woman. multimedia artist. probably a slut.