Moaning to myself I let the knife guide my hand towards the softer tissues – a light yellow substance spills out and I have a sense of recognition that this is my fat, agent of so many of my problems. The knife snags on the white stringy elastic tendons and I resist the urge to cry out as I snip through them with the tip of the shears. I continue to cut away at the back of my leg and more tissue and gore piles up. This
