Very soon my weight loss became very noticeable.
I was stick-thin, my face gaunt and colourless, my skin dry and rough. I lost all my confidence and bubbliness. I became withdrawn, moody and snappy.
If mum or dad wanted to weigh me at home, I would weigh myself and say it was more than it was or put weights inside my pockets.
In four months, I had reached my lowest weight of five stone. I was no longer able to attend school.
Finally, I was admitted to a special unit for teenagers with mental problems and eating disorders. It was 20 miles away from my home.
Part of me - the real me - was relieved that I was getting help at last, but the anorexia part was very angry.
I had to stay in bed for two weeks to build my strength up.
The doctors told me I had burnt off all my fat and was beginning to burn off muscle from my heart.
They said I could have died from a heart attack at any time.
A member of staff had to sit outside my room 24 hours a day to make sure I ate all my meals and just rested.
I wasn't allowed to go to the toilet or bathroom alone in case I exercised.
I missed my family and friends, but they came to visit often and phoned every night.
Four months on, I managed to get my weight up to eight-and-a-half stone. It was tough, but my family, friends and the staff kept me focused.
I realised that I wanted to get out of there. I wanted to be normal again.
This was a year ago.
Anorexia still creeps back in, but thanks to my own willpower and my parents' help, I have never let my weight drop below eight stone.
I still love to exercise, but only to keep fit, not to lose weight.
I've learnt to be comfortable with my body."
Pam, 14, Yorkshire
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