After meticulously centering the sheet, she crossed over to the granite-topped island—the home improvement she and Terry had scrimped and saved for over five years ago. There, carefully laid out on a freshly laundered white towel, were long and short carving blades from her butcher block holder, and a gleaming X-Acto knife she had bought expressly for this procedure. Beside them were three of Terry’s Percocets and a glass with three fingers of brandy. There was also a bottle of rubbing alcohol, a cigarette lighter, several ice packs, and a pile of gauze pads.

Smiling excitedly, she set the pills on her tongue and washed them down with the brandy.

This is it.

The knife she selected for starters had a thick and meaty blade. It was deeply curved. Her excited expression reflected off its shiny surface. She grabbed the sterilization kit, a lighter, and some rubbing alcohol.

“I’m going to be thin!” she sang, testing the sharpness of the huge knife against the pad of her thumb. The tremor usually present in her hands actually seemed less than usual. Still, she applied only the slightest pressure and opened a thin sliver that promptly began oozing blood.

“I’m gonna be the biggest loser. The biggest loser is what I’m gonna be.…”

Roberta sucked the blood from her thumb.

Li-po-suc-tion.

She sang the word in her mind as she admired herself again in the knife’s gleaming blade.

The brandy and Percocets were kicking in faster than she had anticipated, and she realized she was having trouble controlling her tongue. Best to hurry.

She placed a kitchen chair on the bedsheet, grabbed a blue Rubbermaid bucket, and set it at the foot of the chair. “Be prepared for something of a mess,” one set of Internet instructions had warned. A few towels and some gauze, and she was all set. On the towel beside the X-Acto knife were several threaded needles.

Ready.

Oh, I wish Terry could see me, Roberta lamented as she set a bath towel across her lap, unbuttoned her blouse, and pressed an ice pack against her belly to numb up the skin and constrict the blood vessels.

“Getting ready,” Roberta announced, though her speech now was quite thick and slurred.

She sat down on the chair and picked up the knife.

“I can do this,” she said, pressing the knife against her massive belly. “I can make it all go away.”

The huge blade easily sliced through skin. It hurt—more than she expected it to, and she cried out at the pain. But then, just as quickly, it went away. Roberta pressed on.

Her eyes rolled back. She cried out again as she forced the blade through half a foot of saffron-colored fat. Blood began to spray out onto the towel, the floor, and into the blue bucket.

I’m getting thinner already, she thought.