Destiny Deakin, at 25, embodies the picture of a fitness enthusiast with her lustrous blonde hair and toned physique. Standing at 5 feet 8 inches and weighing in at 9 stone 5 pounds, she maintains a healthy size eight through daily exercise and a nutritious diet. However, her current lifestyle is a stark contrast to her early years.

As a 12-year-old, Destiny faced the challenges of being 14 and a half stone and fitting into an adult size 18. This made her a target for school bullies, who cruelly dubbed her ‘beefburger girl.’ The transformation she has achieved since then is nothing short of remarkable.

The catalyst for this significant change was an intervention that has since waned in popularity. Between the ages of 12 and 14, Destiny attended two six-week sessions at a residential weight-loss camp, where she learned the principles of healthy eating and regular exercise, ultimately shedding two stone in the process.

This program, known as MoreLife and based in Bradford, was unique in the UK for its focus on sustainable lifestyle changes rather than quick fixes. Destiny’s journey at MoreLife was documented in the BBC Three series “I Know What You Weighed Last Summer,” which aired a decade ago.

In a recent conversation with The Mail on Sunday, Destiny and other former camp participants highlight the lasting impact of such supportive environments. While in the United States, similar ‘fat camps’ are more prevalent, they face criticism for potential stigma and psychological harm, factors which have contributed to their decline in popularity.

Today, speaking to The Mail on Sunday, Destiny and other former attendees say their experiences show that supportive camps can deliver lasting change, rather than short-term weight loss alone. In the US, where so-called ‘fat camps’ are more common, critics raise concerns about stigma and potential psychological harm – criticisms that have helped push such programmes out of favour.

But Destiny says it marked a turning point, helping her rebuild her health and establish enduring habits after years of feeling defined by her size.

And the need for such intervention is clear.

Official figures show around one in ten children in England are obese when they start school, rising to about one in five by the time they move on to secondary education. Research suggests that these children are up to five times more likely to remain overweight as adults, significantly increasing their risk of life-threatening conditions such as Type 2 diabetes and heart disease.

Destiny Deakin is 5ft 8in and 9st 5lb – a trim size eight. She exercises daily and follows a healthy diet. But it hasn’t always been this way…

… before attending her first weight-loss camp at the age of 12 she was a target for relentless bullying at school, where she was cruelly labelled ‘beefburger girl’

In response, the medical profession is increasingly turning to powerful weight-loss injections or surgery to tackle the problem.

A recent investigation found that about 400 children have been given NHS-prescribed jabs such as Mounjaro and Wegovy, with the youngest aged just nine – prompting debate over whether lifestyle interventions have been sidelined too quickly.

Recalling her childhood, Destiny says: ‘The boys in my class would bully me, calling me fat or “beefburger girl”. I would put on a brave face, but go home and feel so sad.’

While Destiny, from Dudley in the West Midlands, was an active child, enjoying netball and dance, she struggled with cross country and swimming lessons.

‘We were forced to run in cross country, which I found hard because of my weight and I lagged behind my friends. I ended up making excuses each week, saying that I was on my period or that my leg hurt. Swimming was the worst, and I would make my mum write me a sick note because I didn’t want the boys to see me wearing a swimming costume.’ She admits: ‘After school, I would spend my pocket money at the corner shop on sweets, energy drinks and chocolate bars and then put the wrappers in the dustbin so my mum wouldn’t see them. If my mum asked if I’d eaten anything, I’d say no. In reality, I’d usually eaten my daily calorie allowance, and then some, before dinner.

‘Mum would send me to school with fruit, and it’d still be in my bag at the end of the day because I didn’t want it.

‘There was no way for her to track what I had eaten at school. I could have three pizzas if I fancied.

‘She would ask why I was so sad, and say things like, “Do you think you’d feel better if you lost some weight?” But to me, it just felt like she was being mean.’

Destiny often spent time at her grandmother’s house after school and during summer holidays, where she admits she was given ‘literally whatever I wanted’.

‘When the camp was first suggested to me, I said flat out that I wasn’t going,’ she says. ‘I used to stay at my nan’s during the six-week holidays, where there were treats like fizzy pop, crisps, pizza and chocolate.

‘I knew that if I went to camp, I wouldn’t be able to have any of this.’

Her experience isn’t unique. Studies have repeatedly shown that children who struggle with their weight are more likely to gain excess pounds during school holidays, when routines fall away and access to structured meals and activity is lost.

At MoreLife, children followed a portion-controlled diet alongside daily physical activity designed to improve fitness in a supportive environment.

A typical day involved swimming, team sports such as basketball and dodgeball, and running drills, balanced with classes on nutrition, lifestyle and body image. But foods often considered ‘off limits’ were not banned. Chips and pizza appeared on the menu, and the programme even included a supervised trip to McDonald’s – intended to teach moderation rather than avoidance.

‘On your first day, you get a daily calorie allowance based on your weight, height and how much you need to lose,’ Destiny says.

This approach meant some children were on more restrictive diets than others. ‘There used to be a lot of arguments over foods, because some people were hungry and wanted bigger portions,’ she adds. ‘There were times that I was hungry, but that’s the entire point of losing weight.’

Destiny, now a pharmacy dispenser, credits the programme with reshaping her habits.

‘On a typical day we’d get up, have breakfast and then do a lifestyle session. That might be a trip to Sainsbury’s to look at sugar and calorie content in cereals. And then you’d spend a lot of the day exercising.

Jordan Smithy attended the camp at the same time as Destiny, when he was 17 and weighed 19 stone. He lost just under a stone during his stay and has since shed more than three

Now 27, Jordan says: ‘If I hadn’t gone to that camp, I genuinely think I’d be in a much worse place today.‘

A typical day at the camp involved swimming, team sports such as basketball and dodgeball, and running drills, balanced with classes on nutrition, lifestyle and body image

‘Even ten years on, choices I make stem from being at camp. ‘It’s simple things – like being taught to look at the traffic-light system on food packaging. To this day, I still do that when I shop.

‘Looking at my lifestyle now, I do 60 minutes of exercise every day. I go to the gym, take my vitamins, drink my water – all things I learned there. I still have McDonald’s as a treat, but I always go for a grilled chicken wrap, and I always get zero-sugar drinks.’

Jordan Smithy, now 27, attended the camp at the same time as Destiny, when he was 17 and weighed 19 stone. He lost just under a stone during his stay and has since shed more than three.

Jordan says: ‘If I hadn’t gone to that camp, I genuinely think I’d be in a much worse place today. I’d almost certainly be a lot heavier.

‘It gave me the confidence to become a personal trainer and fitness coach, and eventually to audition for a singing competition show. I was a really shy kid who never spoke to anyone. When you lose weight, everything changes.’

He says the camp didn’t just alter his body, but fundamentally rewired his mindset. Before attending, he lived on takeaways, hated exercise and struggled to run. At camp he learned about portion sizes, calories and how to structure daily movement.

Around 120 eight- to 17-year-olds from across the UK attended MoreLife each summer, which was based at a boarding school in Bradford.

Children could stay for up to six weeks at a cost of £1,000 per week, with places largely funded by local authorities or the NHS – as was the case for Destiny.

Over the two decades it operated, around 6,000 youngsters passed through the programme. But in 2018 it closed after public funding dried up.

MoreLife founder Professor Paul Gately says that the decision to withdraw support was short-sighted. He argues that the programme was highly effective at helping children lose weight and keep it off, and insists that education around food and nutrition should come before medical intervention.

He says: ‘From a scientific perspective, weight-loss camps are still the most effective option for children with obesity.

‘This isn’t just about weight – it’s about changing the direction of a child’s life.’

Professor Gately has published a series of studies tracking the impact of his programmes.

The research shows that over six weeks, children lost an average of around 13lb, alongside significant improvements in fitness, self-esteem and body image.

Of the decision to close the camp, he adds: ‘We ran it at a loss for years because we believed in it. But it became unsustainable. As a scientist, it’s frustrating that we’re not doing what we know works.’

The NHS spends an estimated £6.5 billion a year treating obesity-related ill health in England – a figure projected to rise to £9.7 billion by 2050. But not everyone is convinced residential camps are the answer – as putting the estimated 600,000 obese children in the UK through camps could be a complex and expensive endeavour.

Dr Alex Miras, an obesity expert at Imperial College London, says: ‘If you want a large public health impact, you need to reach a lot of children – and from a practical perspective, that can be challenging.’

Professor Gately, however, points to the recent National Citizen Service – a Cameron-era Conservative initiative that ran between 2009 and 2025 – which saw one million teens put through a two to four-week personal development programme. It offered residential ‘away from home’ experiences, outdoor challenges, and community volunteering. ‘It shows these things can be done, if the political will is there,’ he says.

Nichola Ludlam-Raine, a registered dietitian who worked at the MoreLife camp, adds: ‘Evidence shows that while children may lose weight in intensive short-term settings, maintaining that once they return to their normal home, school and social environments is much more challenging.

‘Today, most public health guidance supports whole-family, community-based interventions delivered over time, rather than residential camp-style models.

‘That doesn’t mean structured programmes have no place, but they must be evidence-based, multidisciplinary, psychologically safe and focused on health behaviours rather than weight alone.’

A government spokesman said: ‘Every child deserves the best possible start in life, which is why we are taking decisive action to tackle childhood obesity.

‘We are restricting junk-food advertising before 9pm and stopping fast-food outlets opening near schools. Our Ten-Year Health Plan will shift the focus from sickness to prevention, to create a healthier future for every child.’

For Destiny, that focus on prevention is deeply personal.

‘People don’t believe I was once a size 18,’ she says. ‘But I’ve worked really hard not to be that person any more. I’ve flipped everything on its head – my diet, my exercise and my lifestyle. I’m maintaining my weight, loving life and living well.’

Her experience is echoed by Jordan. When the BBC Three documentary was uploaded to YouTube in 2021, he began receiving messages from strangers who recognised him.

‘I had a message just yesterday asking what the camp was like and whether I’d recommend it,’ he says. ‘I absolutely would. If a camp like that were running today, I’d work there in a heartbeat.

‘I’d love to give back what I needed to learn as a kid, and help children now so that, in ten years’ time, they can be where I am.’