It wasn't sexual in its element. I wasn't being exploited. I was doing what happened. It was very challenging because I played Phyllis from 15 years old to 53 when she died of breast cancer.
I have no qualms about saying I am more confident in the medical treatment in America. The breast cancer survival rate is 20 per cent higher than in the UK.
As her sons have seen her: the mother in patriarchy: controlling, erotic, castrating, heart-suffering, guilt-ridden, and guilt-provoking; a marble brow, a huge breast, an avid cave; between her legs snakes, swamp-grass, or teeth; on her lap a helpless infant or a martyred son. She exists for one purpose: to bear and nourish the son.
I was actually very pleased that they let me do it, because I feel very deeply for breast cancer survivors. I don't have it, but it is in my family. I've always been very aware of it. I go for mammograms and checkups.
Behind every footballing tough guy there lurks a mincing aesthete with a love of art for art's sake, football for football's sake. A win without art is somehow less than a victory; less, almost, than a beautiful defeat. In football, the romantic and the pragmatist are ever at war in the same breast. Beauty, it must be understood here, is not Barcelona's aim but their method. And last night they were ready to use this method at every opportunity - quick-fire passing of wit and purpose in the danger areas, seeking always to produce an unlooked-for player in a position of threat.
Nature is full of by-ends. A moth feeds on a petal, in a moment the pollen caught on its breast will be wedding this blossom to another in the next county.
Should I talk about [having breast cancer]? Because how many things could I have? You know black, lesbian - I'm like, I can't be the poster child for everything. At least with the LGBT issues we get a parade and a float and it's a party.
The great pulsation of nature beats too in my breast, and when I carol aloud, I am answered by a thousand-fold echo. I hear a thousand nightingales. Spring hath sent them to awaken Earth from her morning slumber, and Earth trembles with ecstasy, her flowers are hymns, which she sings in inspiration to the sun.
Some village Hampden, that with dauntless breast The little tyrant of his fields withstood, Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest, Some Cromwell guiltless of his country's blood.
Our sweetest hopes rise blooming. And then again are gone, They bloom and fade alternate, And so it goes rolling on. I know it, and it troubles My life, my love, my rest, My heart is wise and witty, And it bleeds within my breast.
I can't really cook, but the first dish I ever made was for my girlfriend, Eleanor. I made chicken breast wrapped in ham, homemade mashed potatoes, and gravy.
And as to you Death, and you bitter hug of mortality, it is idle to try to alarm me.... And as to you corpse, I think you are good manure, but that does not offend me, I smell the white roses sweet-scented and growing, I reach to the leafy lips — I reach to the polished breasts of melons. And as to you life, I reckon you are the leavings of many deaths, No doubt I have died myself ten thousand times before.
I don't have great thighs. I have very big breasts and a soft, fatty little tummy. And I've got back fat. People assume that I'm walking around in little spaghetti-strap dresses. It's insidious - Glam Jamie, the Perfect Jamie, the great figure, blah, blah, blah. And I don't want the unsuspecting 40-year-old women of the world to think that I've got it going on. It's such a fraud. And I'm the one perpetuating it.
I'm a short woman with a pretty good body and large breasts — that's not what I think of as sexy.
Somebody wanted me to autograph her breast and I kindly refused. She was in college. I thought maybe I shouldn't do that.
We're in a horrible, repugnant place now where kids are told it's their right and due to be hugely famous. Not good at their job, not good at anything, just hugely famous. This is not sane. Little girls think they'll be famous if they have vast breast implants and might as well die if they don't.
I can't do Los Angeles. I've always been the anti-Barbie. I don't want to be in a place where almost every woman walks around with puffy lips, little noses and breasts large enough to nourish a small country.
Thank you Stephanie, you’re the breast… I mean best!
Despite the fact that I have a good-size pair of breasts... in Lois & Clark, I have the opportunity to show the world they're not my only attribute.
I had four C-sections and my stomach looked like the map of the world. My breasts were hanging down to here from breastfeeding those babies, and my nipples were like platters. I wanted to fit into the gowns that I finally got to wear.
One of the things we've always tried to do is help others with our story. Whether it's with the infertility issues, whether it's with the breast cancer, we said we're gonna turn these negatives into positives. And if we can help others by sharing our story, then it's worth it.
Someone like me shouldnt be diagnosed with breast cancer, thats what was going through my mind. I wasnt thinking about a diagnosis. I was just doing what I was supposed to do, which was staying on top of my mammograms. It was a shock.
I am joining the more than 200,000 women who will be diagnosed with breast cancer this year... I am inspired by the brave women who have faced this battle before me and grateful for the support of family and friends.
I heard those words that every woman fears and never wants to hear, 'You have breast cancer.
I have experienced firsthand the tremendous impact breast cancer has on the women who fight it and the loved ones who support them. This is a disease that catches you unaware and, without the right resources, leaves you feeling frightened and alone.
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