I wake up at 4:15 A.M., get some coffee, turn on the news, see what's happening, go clickety-clack on the web to see what I missed overnight. Then I go to the gym, around 5:15, and I do what appears to be a very light workout, but who cares. I'm socializing with other nice people at the gym. Then I go into work, and I'm really awake.

I'm a disorganized mess. My purse is gross: I once found a shoulder pad, string cheese, and a Christmas ornament in it!

Having cancer empowered me to take more risks. I knew beating cancer was going to shape me, but it wasnt going to be all of me.

If you fall-and trust me, you will- make sure you fall on your back. Because if you fall on your back, you can see up. And if you can see up, you can get up. And you can keep going and going and going.

Weight is just not a hot button. In fact, during my life, it probably should have been on my radar screen a bit more. I look back at work photos and am shocked. Was I eating the people I was interviewing?! Good Lord, I was big.

One day, right after my mastectomy, I went for a walk in Central Park, and there was this mob of people blocking the road. I thought, 'Oh, great, now I'm stuck!' but then I suddenly realized that it was a breast cancer walk.

I'm a huge karaoke person even though I have the worst singing voice. When you love doing something, who cares?