At breakfast the following day -- cream of wheat or cornflakes with powdered milk -- the kids, who are only weighed every couple of weeks, speculate about who is losing how much. Samme, the new big kahuna, says that she lost 14 pounds in her first month at camp, and was 164 pounds at her last weigh-in. She's staying only six weeks because she has to get back to school. She wished she'd dropped more, but, ever positive, she says: "That's 14 less I gotta lose." Her personal goal is to lose 30 pounds at camp. Her dream is to someday weigh 130 pounds.

After morning stretch circle, campers move on to their next site, an hour up the road in Monterey. Morning snack is a brown-rice cake with a low-fat peanut butter substitute, which tastes vaguely like the real thing, with 85 percent less fat. Lily declares the food at Wellspring unequivocally "gross." "None of it is real," she says. "Not real peanut butter, not real sugar, not real hash browns. It's the low-fat, dehydrated version. I need a burger really bad right now!"

Lily raises a good point: How healthy is it for growing kids to eat so many chemically laden food substitutes? Isn't it possible to eat a really low-fat diet, even fewer than 20 grams of fat per day, that doesn't feature Splenda as a major food group? Wellsprings' president, Craig, says that, ideally, they'd serve campers fresh, whole foods with most of their protein coming from vegetables, but that would be so far from the diet they eat at home, they would reject it. So instead, the camp serves them foods that bear a resemblance to what they're used to, just lower-fat versions.

Later in the day campers who have advanced to "maverick" will take a field trip to Starbucks, but not without some serious advance planning. Jackie Windfeldt, 23, the camp's nutrition instructor, hands out copies of "You, Starbucks and Nutrition," a brochure detailing the calories and fat in all the drinks served at the coffee chain. As the kids start scrutinizing their options, Windfeldt recommends the tall, light, mocha Frappuccino, which is 140 calories and 1.5 grams of fat. "Remember to ask for nonfat milk," she pleads.

Alex, Joey and Samme pile into one of the camp's white vans and start checking their looks in the rearview mirror. Grunged out in clothes that they've been camping in, with no makeup and not more than a three-minute shower in days, they're embarrassed to be seen in public. But as counselor Krissy Elsemore, 23, gets them on the road, the girls' spirits lift. They crank up Bobby Valentino's "Slow Down," singing along and dancing in their seats.

"Slow down never seen anything so lovely/Now turn around and bless me with your beauty, cutie/A butterfly tattoo/Right above your navel/Your belly button's pierced too just like I like it girl ..."

"When I get really skinny and toned, I'm going to get a butterfly tattoo on my bellybutton," says Joey, adding, apropos of nothing, "I hate skinny people." No one replies.

As Elsemore circles the parking lot, the campers get even more pumped up. "We're big fat people! Let us get our big fat coffees," shouts Joey, drawing high-fives from the other campers. As they walk down the street to the Starbucks, they pass restaurant after restaurant exuding temptation: "Sushi! All-you-can-eat buffet! Smell the sushi," says Alex. "Sushi's a healthy option, when you get home, guys," says Elsemore, trying to turn even the walk into a teaching moment.

Windfeldt, the nutrition guru, stops the group on the street before they go into the cafe: "Do you guys remember what you have to say?" "Nonfat!" comes the chorus of replies.

Alex, Samme and Joey settle on a venti, nonfat, sugar-free, vanilla, caramel macchiato with 240 calories and one gram of fat. It's relatively healthy compared with some of the milkshake-like options here. But it's also clear that the kids can't help seizing their chance for more of a good thing. They're entitled to just a "tall," the Starbuckian euphemism for a small. But they can upgrade their snack to a bigger size by spending shaka beads that they've earned at camp. Those are tokens that counselors hand out to say "Right on!" to a camper who has done extra chores or just shown a good attitude on a particular grueling hike. Alex, Joey and Samme all decide to take the supersize upgrade.

The kids relish their carefully selected coffee treats in civilization. Joey scribbles the calorie and fat information of her drink, on the back of her hand, so she won't forget to write it down in her journal back at camp. But I can't help noticing that their very fit counselor, the blond, outdoorsy Elsemore, who says her diet at home isn't that different from what the campers eat at camp, has ordered the most sensible thing of all: a 120-calorie, nonfat latte. She's not trying to lose weight; this is just how she eats. And it's healthier behavior than that of the teens who are devoting their summer break to slimming down but can't resist supersizing, given the chance.

It's impossible to predict whether the campers will be able to bring even a semblance of discipline into their normal lives when they leave Wellspring. To get parents on board, Wellspring invites them to try two days of the program at the end of the summer so they can see how their kids are used to eating and exercising. Campers are also required to self-monitor when they get home through a Web-based, three-month aftercare program. D'Andrea, the behavioral coach, will also check in with the campers online during those months, and they can chat with other campers on the site. But last summer, only 33 percent of Wellspring campers used the aftercare program. The site has been upgraded to try to make it easier and more appealing, but who knows if that will translate into more users.

Will Samme, Joey and Alex take home anything from Wellspring besides temporary weight loss? I think so. If not a belly toned enough for a tattoo, they'll have some new tools to help them as they struggle with their weight, probably for the rest of their lives. Maybe they'll dig that dusty pedometer out of a drawer when the pounds start to creep back, or unearth that calorie-count booklet and start a new food journal.

For now, Samme is planning the dream lunch she'll have when she gets home. And, no, Pringles, waffles and a gallon of juice are not on the menu. Instead, she says, she'll opt for refried beans, lettuce, low-fat sour cream and baked chips.

That's 305 calories and four grams of fat.

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