Valerie Monroe, beauty director for The Oprah Magazine, writes a monthly column -- Ask Val -- that appears on the pages of Oprah's feel-good publication. She responds to questions about make-up, skin care, hair care, and overall body care too.

In her February 2007 column, Val writes, "Many of you have written to tell me that you began to be less critical of your body when you appreciated the things it could do." As I read this, I had what Oprah would call an Aha! moment, a moment when something just clicks and makes sudden sense. Aha!, I thought, as I considered all the things my body can do, completely independent of how I look on the outside. So while I was jogging today -- my body can now easily run three miles -- I ran through all of my body's accomplishments, and I stored them in the files of my mind so I could later write them down.

Here are seven things my body can do. As you read them, consider your own body -- its strength, its power, its capacity for greatness -- and remind yourself of your wondrous self the next time you start to criticize the way you look.

• My body can partner in the creation of human life. It can carry babies and deliver them and love them and care for them and raise them. Not all bodies have this power. I am lucky.

• My body can climb an attic staircase, crawl into cramped and dark corners, pull large boxes out of wedged spaces, drag them back to the staircase, and walk backwards down the stairs with goods balancing on my head so that I can fulfill the wish my five-year-old child who wanted so badly in early November to assemble our Christmas tree and decorate our house for the holidays. "Let's wait until Daddy gets home," I told Joey when I found myself crammed into a tiny space in the attic, wrestling with a heavy box full of artificial tree parts. "You can do it, Mommy," Joey said. "You are strong." And so I fought my way through the frustrating feat because I was afraid of the lessons I would teach this little boy if I didn't. In the end, it was Joey who taught me the lesson. I can do it. I am strong.
  

• My body can endure and conquer a 5K run when it once could barely run around the block. With a little extra effort and push, I think my body can accomplish even more.

• My body, once weak and without definition, can lift increasingly heavy weight and can generate muscle tone. It can even do push-ups -- real push-ups. It takes dedication and practice and persistence and mental toughness too. But I see progress. I feel progress. And I want more.

• My body can help others. I can use my fingers to type words on a keyboard that will reach friends and family and people I don't even know. My words can inform and support and encourage and heal. I can use my hands and my semi-creative talents to create hand-made gifts, to cook and deliver very mediocre meals for friends in need, to massage my husband's sore back, to braid my niece's beautiful hair and paint her tiny nails. I can use my arms to hug my little boys with all my might. I can use my voice to communicate, my ears to listen, my senses to feel.
  

• My body can tolerate surgery and chemotherapy and radiation and horrible allergic reactions to antibiotics. My body was badly beaten by a treatment protocol intended to cure me of a disastrous disease. And somehow, in some way, it survived.
  

• My body killed cancer. With the aid of medical intervention and a hopeful attitude, my body overcame the worst and best thing that has ever happened to me. And if it could do nothing else, I would be truly happy for this one thing my body can do.
  

There is a lot of breast cancer awareness out there. Some believe it's too much. Some say it's overboard. Some wish breast cancer could share some of the spotlight with all the other cancers -- those struggling for a little more funding, a little more research, a little more air time. Is it possible there could be more awareness for the disease that corners the market on all things pink? Yes. It's possible. And it's necessary too.

As long as women are dying of breast cancer -- in 2006, breast cancer will kill about 40,000 women in the United States -- there is cause for more awareness. And each October -- Breast Cancer Awareness Month -- breast cancer information bombards us all. Annoying as it may seem, the reminders that flow from breast cancer campaigns are truly critical. Reminders about self exams and mammograms and early detection and risk factors and new developments can save lives. They do save lives. And while we should all hope other cancers -- that are just as serious, just as widespread, just as life-threatening -- one day receive the attention they deserve, we should still not pass on opportunities to hop on the breast cancer bandwagon. There is still a lot of road to cover, a lot of progress to be made.

Hopefully, breast cancer awareness stays on the radar. Hopefully, reminders continue to keep charging at us. Day after day. October after October. Until breast cancer is a thing of the past.

Glenn Close is the 2006 Entertainment Industry Foundation (EIF) ambassador to the Saks Fifth Avenue Key to the Cure campaign. Oscar de la Renta is the 2006 designer of the Key to the Cure t-shirt -- available now at Saks Fifth Avenue stores for the price of $35. For each t-shirt purchase, $31 will benefit EIF's Women's Cancer Research Fund. T-shirts are available on-line and in retails stores everywhere.

All Saks Fifth Avenue retail stores and Saks.com will contribute to Key to the Cure by donating 2 percent of all profits during October 12-15. Off Fifth stores will donate 1 percent of profits during the same time period to benefit local and national women's cancer charities.

Key to the Cure is a women's cancer initiative founded in partnership with EIF's Women's Cancer Research Fund. The program receives on-going support from Mercedes-Benz USA -- set to donate one million dollars to the cause. EIF is the entertainment industry's leading charitable organization and has shared hundreds of millions of dollars in support of critical issues facing our society. Like breast cancer.

It's kind of a blur how exactly I came to receive a phone call from a volunteer at the American Cancer Society just after my breast cancer diagnosis. I must have checked a box on one of many medical forms shuffled my way during this confusing time. Or I requested assistance from someone, somewhere, at some point in time. I'm not really sure. But I am sure of this -- one very nice woman, a young breast cancer survivor herself, called me one afternoon from the Reach to Recovery program. She asked me about my situation, told me of hers, and led me to resources -- other survivors, support groups, and the fitness group Team Survivor -- and she met me one afternoon with a goodie bag full of information and comforting gifts. She was my first link to the world of breast cancer survivors.

I've come to know this woman in different circles since she first called me. She was a physical therapist at the same center where I received therapy for post-surgery and radiation concerns. She has been present at every walk and fitness event and cancer function I have attended. And she leads the local Team Survivor group -- so I receive e-mails from her about all sorts of events and gatherings and opportunities for joining a spirited group of strong women. And just today, I received an e-mail invitation from her -- intended for all young survivors she knows who might be interested in becoming Reach for Recovery volunteers. I replied instantly. Yes, I want to do it. She happily replied. So in a short time, I will receive training for this very important job.

It's not a hard job -- it just requires some phone calls and a few personal visits. And the ability to share advice. And words of wisdom. And love and care and compassion for those who may not know how to manage during a personal brush with breast cancer. Whether facing a possible breast cancer diagnosis, a new diagnosis, or a troubling time with lymphedema or reconstruction, Reach to Recovery volunteers offer a hand to anyone grasping for assistance.

I must have been grasping during my own difficult time. I just don't remember much about that time. All I know is that someone helped me at a critical time. And now it's my turn to be that someone.

George W. Bush declared five years ago that no federal funding would be allocated for embryonic stem cell research. He has not changed his mind -- and two weeks ago vetoed a bill that would allow this research. He says that supporting the bill would be supporting the taking of innocent human life in order to find medical benefits for others. For Bush, it crosses a moral boundary. But most Americans support stem cell research and would like to see the Bush White House loosen its restrictions, says Kathy Hudson, director of the Genetics and Public Policy Center at Johns Hopkins University in Washington. Until this happens, though, scientists and researchers find themselves in an ethically-charged minefield, operating carefully and responsibly and ethically.

Dr. Peter Dirks -- a neurosurgeon specializing in childhood brain cancer at Toronto's Hospital for Sick Children who has been making headlines around the world for isolating brain cancer stem cells two years ago -- is one person weighing in on controversial issue of stem cell research. Dirks does not use embryonic stem cells but instead uses cells from tumors removed during brain surgery that would otherwise be discarded. But he says embryonic stem cell research is critical for his success. It's what has led to the findings that exist today -- and it holds the clues for further discovery. It's a delicate matter, though, regardless of the politics surrounding the issue. Before he harvests stem cells from any patient's brain tumor, for example, Dirks asks parents to sign a three and a half-page consent form. And that's just the beginning.

Federally-funded embryonic stem cell research does not yet have its beginning here in the United States. Maybe the tides will change. Maybe we will see progress. Maybe we won't. Only time will tell.

I've been keeping a journal ever since I was first diagnosed with breast cancer. I first wrote by hand in a pink fabric-covered book, sprinkled with multi-colored polka dots. It looked feminine -- which is why I bought it -- and it's vibrance made me feel inspired, motivated, eager to write down the dreaded details of the beginning of my journey. Then I stopped writing in this book and began typing my words in an on-line journal -- a blog. My husband designed the presentation of it, with a pink banner that serves as the backdrop for the title -- my Breast Cancer blog. My first entry was completed on December 21, 2004 and I am still chronicling my journey here. I am also writing for this site -- the Cancer Blog -- and I write whenever and wherever else I can record my words. I do it because it helps me process information in a quiet, calming, introspective way. It soothes me, helps me work through panic and anxiety, helps me heal, and helps me chart my progress. When I look back at what I've written, I realize how far I've come -- or haven't come -- and it helps me move forward. I recommend journaling for everyone, and I recommend these seven simple suggestions for getting started.

Just before my treatment for breast cancer began and during a consultation about what chemotherapy drugs I was about to receive, my oncologist stepped away from my exam room to check on something. When she returned to the room, she told me that she was determining whether or not I qualified for a clinical trial. I had no idea what this meant at the time. All I knew was what she told me -- that my prognosis was too good at that moment to qualify for anything currently under study. I did not fit a profile for anything. I was not a candidate for a clinical trial.

I now know that clinical trials are a critical component of research -- they validate a drug's success or weakness and they provide hope for many who may be at the end of their treatment rope and need something new to consider. A clinical trial is a comparison of standard treatments to newer treatments in an effort to discover better methods for the diagnosis and treatment of cancer. Doctors, scientists, and other health professionals conduct these tests according to strict guidelines set by the Food and Drug Administration -- which establishes mandatory guidelines to ensure the maximum safety of the patient.

Clinical trials rely on volunteers -- and sadly, there is a current shortage of patients willing to participate in trials. Experts say that, for the past few decades, just five to 10 percent of all cancer patients in the United States have joined a clinical trial. There is an urgent need -- because the demand for willing, eligible participants far exceeds the supply. Some experts are even recommending that the small pool of candidates that does exist be rationed to only the most important cancer studies -- leaving other studies with no hope for completion. There is no good solution in sight. But the reasons for the shortage are becoming apparent. It's not that patients are unwilling to join. It's that they are unaware, uninformed, not even sure this opportunity is possible -- because doctors are not suggesting trials to their patients. Treatment on a protocol is more demanding for doctors than routine medical care. And it costs doctors to submit to a trial. And trials burden doctors with regulations and paperwork. And some doctors worry about litigation if something experimental goes wrong. So they often don't approach the topic -- and the result is that a wonder drug may sit in a dark freezer because there are not enough people to test it. This potential wonder drug may never show promise, may never save a life, may never see the light of day.

So I guess my oncologist was ahead of the game in this matter -- she compared my diagnosis and prognosis with the needs of all available clinical trials and found that there was not match. Had she not done this, I would have never thought to ask about the possibility -- which is exactly what patients should do instead of waiting for a doctor to make the suggestion. Because it may never happen.

For more information on clinical trials, please visit the Coalition of Cancer Cooperative Groups.

I've been wearing a breast cancer bracelet that jingles with charms in the shapes of hearts, with inspiring little messages like Go with your heart. One of the heart charms is a watch. My friend sent me this shortly after my breast cancer diagnosis. I love this bracelet. So I was sad the other day when the glass piece covering the watch somehow cracked and shattered. I only realized this when I tried to check the time and learned that my watch was not actually telling time anymore. So I went for my back-up -- another watch, exactly the same and also given to me as a gift. I replaced my old watch with the new watch and then days later, my new watch was not working. I think water got inside the glass and damaged the battery or the mechanisms -- or something. I'm sure I could repair the watches -- and I considered this -- but then it entered my mind that maybe this is a message that I am okay now without all my breast cancer gear.

Quick autopsies -- or rapid organ donation -- may steer scientists in the direction of better diagnosing and treating the most lethal of cancers. Some 33,700 Americans will be diagnosed with pancreatic cancer this year -- and 32,300 will die. There is no early detection test for this disease and early symptoms are vague and may be mistaken for health concerns like indigestion. By the time the classic symptoms -- jaundice and itching -- surface, the cancer has typically spread and patients have only months to live. Rapid autopsies have been used before -- for Alzheimer's and prostate cancer -- but this a first in the study of pancreatic cancer and it just may lead to the discovery of what makes this cancer so aggressive and so deadly.

I will share anything and everything about my own experience with breast cancer -- how I found it, how it was removed, how it was treated, how I fared through the whole ordeal, how I'm surviving now. I figure that if I spread the word about what happened to me, that others will become more aware and some -- especially those with a new diagnosis -- will benefit from whatever wisdom I have to impart. So I am an open book. I talk about breast cancer, answer questions about breast cancer, and probably insert my opinion about the topic to some who don't really care. But I will continue talking and sharing -- and writing -- because the alternative would be a disservice to the few I may be able to help.

So a card stuck in the middle of a magazine caught my eye the other day. The slogan on it reads, Tell Someone and the illustrations on this card -- that functions as a postcard -- show women reaching out to other women. There are women talking on the phone and a woman tapping another on the shoulder. The message they appear to be spreading is highlighted in the text below the graphic representation of this campaign to raise awareness of cervical cancer. The message is about HPV -- human papillomavirus -- and about how millions of women already have it and how some don't even know they have it. I learned from reading this card that for some, HPV will clear on its own. But for some, cervical cancer may develop. This is why Pap tests are critical. And so what all women should be telling other women is this -- ask your doctor about the importance of Pap tests. And be active in your own health. And follow all recommendations for detecting health concerns early. I learned from reading this card that I should tell someone about this. And so now I have.