Then she threw it in the trash.

A long silence. Then: “I’ll pray for you.”

At a birthday party in Palermo, her friend Sofía pulled her aside. “You’re not fun anymore,” Sofía said, half-joking, but the hurt was real. “You used to love the choripán at that place in La Boca.”

The last thing Mariana remembered was the anesthesiologist saying, “Count backward from ten.” She made it to seven.

The surgery was performed at Sanatorio Otamendi, a private hospital in the Recoleta district known for its bariatric program. Mariana arrived at 6 a.m., her stomach empty, her nerves so raw she could taste copper. She changed into a hospital gown that was too small. A nurse with a kind smile and purple scrubs held her hand as they inserted the IV.

“I have my surgery scheduled for next month,” the young woman said. “And I’m terrified.”

She paused. A woman in the front row was crying.

Mariana took her hands. “Good,” she said. “That means you understand what’s at stake. But you’re not alone. Argentina has some of the best surgeons in the world. And now you have me.”