What happened to the children who went to fat camps: They’ve fallen out of favour – but Destiny says her stint changed her life. Now, as childhood obesity soars, is it time to bring them back?
What happened to the children who went to fat camps: They’ve fallen out of favour – but Destiny says her stint changed her life. Now, as childhood obesity soars, is it time to bring them back?
Destiny Deakin, 25, maintains a fit appearance with her signature blonde hair and well-defined physique. At 5ft 8in and 9st 5lb, she adheres to a rigorous exercise routine and a balanced diet. Yet, her journey to this healthy state was far from straightforward, as she once struggled with severe weight issues.
At age 12, Destiny weighed 14.5 stone, equivalent to an adult size 18. She endured relentless taunts at school, being dubbed “beefburger girl” by peers. This negative label left her feeling isolated and self-conscious, shaping her early experiences with body image.
From bullying to transformation
Destiny credits her recovery to a program that has seen declining popularity in recent years. Between the ages of 12 and 14, she participated in two six-week residential weight-loss camps. These camps focused on sustainable lifestyle changes rather than quick fixes, and she lost two stone overall.
The MoreLife initiative, based in Bradford, was the sole residential weight-loss program in the UK at the time. Its emphasis on long-term habits led to a BBCThree documentary titled *I Know What You Weighed Last Summer*, which highlighted her journey a decade ago.
Controversy and current trends
While fat camps have gained traction in the U.S., critics in the UK argue they may foster stigma and psychological strain. This debate has contributed to their reduced appeal. However, Destiny and others who attended such programs insist they offer meaningful, lasting results.
Today, medical professionals often opt for weight-loss injections or surgery to address childhood obesity, as reported by recent studies. Over 400 children in England have already received NHS-approved treatments like Mounjaro and Wegovy, with some as young as nine. This shift raises questions about whether lifestyle-based solutions have been overlooked too soon.
“The boys in my class would call me fat or ‘beefburger girl’,” Destiny recalls. “I’d pretend to be strong, but at night I’d feel crushed by their words.”
Destiny, from Dudley in the West Midlands, was an active child who enjoyed netball and dance. However, cross country and swimming lessons became sources of distress. She would fabricate excuses to avoid running, and dreaded the swimsuit requirement, often convincing her mother she was unwell to avoid the activity.
“Mum would send me to school with fruit, but I’d toss it aside,” she says. “It stayed in my bag all day because I didn’t want to admit I wasn’t eating it. I’d sneak in three pizzas if I felt like it, and never let her know.”
Her grandmother’s home was a sanctuary where she indulged in whatever she desired. This contrast made the idea of attending a weight-loss camp seem daunting. “I knew if I went, I’d have to give up all the treats I loved,” she admits. “That’s why I resisted at first.”
