The man already was losing flesh off his back, but he stood there panting, waiting.

I soon learned that every sculptor still working did this, to make sure the model did not lose flesh too quickly.

He loses flesh, his appetite is variable and, on the whole, impaired.

He had indeed lost flesh, although he was not so thin as his mother made him out to be.

I eat well, and seem to have lost but I little flesh in the meanwhile.

Well, I would lose no blood nor flesh over it.

He had lost flesh, was still in pain, but his great strength had pulled him through.

Also, his hands trembled much, and he began to lose flesh.

Even his hands had lost flesh; the skin hung loose on them.

Each person lost clothing and flesh to become a walking skeleton, then returned to full human form beyond the panel.