Summary: An Australian woman's account of a strict Chinese weight-loss program—with regimented meals, intense exercise, and locked gates—went viral. While extreme, it drew curiosity from abroad as a structured "reset." She lost 6kg and gained habits, but warns it's not a quick fix.
Source: OT-Team(G), Daily Mail
She spent 28 days locked in a Chinese "fat prison," and her story shocked the internet.
High walls, locked gates, round-the-clock security, four hours of daily training and meals measured to the gram — this is the reality inside what some online have dubbed China's "fat camps." Recently, one Australian woman's candid account of spending 28 days in such a facility in Guangzhou has gone viral, prompting fascination, debate and a surprising wave of interest from foreign audiences.
The woman, 28-year-old TL Huang, an Australian of Chinese descent who has been living between Japan and China, voluntarily enrolled in a so-called "military-style" weight-loss camp on the advice of her mother. She later described the experience on social media, half-jokingly referring to it as a "fat prison" — not because she was forced to attend, but because daily life inside is tightly controlled once participants enter.
According to Huang, the compound is enclosed by tall concrete walls and steel gates, with security on duty 24 hours a day. Leaving is not permitted without a valid reason. On arrival, staff confiscate all "unhealthy" food, including instant noodles and snacks. From the first day onward, residents follow a fixed routine: weigh-ins every morning and evening, strictly portioned meals prepared by the camp, and three to four hours of structured exercise each day.
Accommodation is basic. Participants live in shared dormitories with bunk beds. Huang said the physical environment and the loss of personal choice were initially difficult to adjust to. "You have almost no room to decide for yourself. You just follow the schedule," she explained. "But at the same time, that forced routine meant I could finally focus on myself without worrying about what to eat or how to work out."
The training regimen proved demanding, especially for someone who had not exercised regularly for nearly two years. By the third week, the combination of intense workouts and the closed environment took a toll. Huang contracted the flu and developed a high fever, eventually requiring a hospital visit. In one video, she admitted that the experience was "not fun anymore" and that she felt exhausted and unwell. Despite this setback, she chose to complete the full 28-day program.
The cost of the program was approximately AUD 600, covering accommodation, meals and training. Huang described it as affordable compared with living expenses in Australia and said the contrast with her previous lifestyle — frequent travel, irregular sleep, and reliance on food delivery — was striking. By the end of the month, she had lost six kilograms.
More significant than the number on the scale, she said, were the changes in her daily habits. After leaving the camp, she found herself walking more, paying closer attention to what she eats, and maintaining a more consistent routine. She acknowledged that such programs are not suitable for everyone and understood public concerns about whether rapid, high-intensity weight loss is healthy or sustainable. "The camp may seem extreme," she said, "but for someone who genuinely wants a 'forced reset,' it can be a starting point."
China has seen the emergence of commercial weight-loss camps in recent years, driven by growing concern over rising obesity rates. Official data indicate that more than half of Chinese adults are now classified as overweight or obese, with projections suggesting the figure could climb to two-thirds by 2030. These camps typically offer regimented schedules, monitored diets and communal living in an attempt to instill discipline and healthier habits.
What has distinguished Huang's story, however, is the response from overseas viewers. Instead of dismissing the camps as overly harsh or culturally alien, many foreign commenters reacted with practical curiosity. Her posts quickly attracted questions about how to enroll, whether English is spoken, whether programs shorter than 28 days are available, and what such facilities are officially called. Some viewers framed the experience less as punishment and more as a highly structured, low-cost alternative to wellness retreats, personal trainers or residential fitness programs in their home countries.
For many international audiences, the appeal lay not only in the physical results but in the concept itself: a temporary environment where food, exercise and daily routines are completely managed. Commenters spoke openly about struggling with self-discipline, inconsistent schedules and failed attempts at lifestyle change. In that context, the idea of "outsourcing" willpower to an external system — even a strict one — appeared unexpectedly attractive.
At the same time, others raised familiar concerns from a medical and psychological standpoint, questioning the strain of prolonged high-intensity training, the risk of illness, and the possibility of rapid weight regain after leaving such a controlled setting. Huang did not dismiss these criticisms. She stressed that anyone considering a similar program should research carefully, understand their own physical limits and avoid viewing it as a quick fix. In her view, the value of the experience was not simply in weight loss, but in using an extreme structure to establish habits that could be carried into everyday life.
Her 28 days inside a Chinese "fat camp" have thus become more than a personal experiment. For a global audience accustomed to wellness programs that emphasize flexibility and individual choice, the reaction to Huang's videos suggests a growing interest in discipline, structure and accountability — even when those qualities come in an unfamiliar or unconventional form. The model may not suit everyone, but for those searching for a decisive break from old routines, the concept has proven difficult to ignore.
What do you think — could you see yourself signing up for a program like this, trading freedom for structure to kickstart a healthier routine? Share your thoughts and experiences in the comments below — have you ever tried a strict fitness or wellness program, and what did it teach you about discipline, habits, or yourself?
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