Four girls sit in the lunch room of their rehab clinic --talking about their favourite things, pushing food around their plates, doing anything but eating.

They're all here at the adolescent eating disorders unit at Sydney's Westmead Hospital because they've been diagnosed with anorexia nervosa, a mental illness which makes them obsessed with the relentless pursuit of thinness. The recent rise of eating disorders has prompted the British government to hold a special summit discussing how to push magazines to portray a more accurate picture of women in their pages. But no matter who is to blame, girls like these are the victims of this misunderstood disease. Westmead's adolescent eating disorders unit is strict. Patients will not be allowed to leave until they see dramatic weight gain. Some come in weighing as little as 33 kgs. A young girl slumps to the floor in tears. She thought she may be able to leave, but she has actually lost weight and will have to stay. Kylie is 25 years old, a recovering anorexic who has been battling the eating disorder for 11 years. She allows her boyfriend to make and serve her dinner for the first time --promising she won't enter the kitchen, won't tell him not to use so much oil, won't step in and do it herself. "That's a lot of rice," she says, her large, slightly frightened eyes focusing on the bowl of rice and fresh stir-fried vegetables. To us, the meal would be healthy, if not sparse. But to those who see themselves as distortedly obese, it's simply more calories that must be burned --or purged-- before they are turned into fat. Holly cooks rich foods for her family, making them fat and herself feel better. She tells us how dangerously obsessive the disease can be, and how she couldn't go out with her friends without constantly thinking about when she could get home to make herself vomit. An eye-opening report on a generation of young girls who are simply wasting away.