When I was 17, every time I got my period I experienced nausea-inducing, life-stopping cramps. I needed help—treatment, pain management, anything—so I could go through a cycle without missing school or work.

Today I’m a stereotypically “fit” personal trainer. But back then I weighed over 300 pounds.

I was nervous walking into the gynecologist’s office. It was my first visit.

She asked me if I was sexually active—I wasn’t—and then asked me why I was there.

“My cramps are so bad that I cry and get sick to my stomach. I can’t stand up straight. I need help."

My mom had told me how horrible internal exams were. I hated getting blood drawn. I braced for which would come first.

But she just looked me up and down.

“Lose weight,” she said, like she was stating the obvious.

“Lose weight?” I said, confused, suddenly embarrassed.

“Lose weight and it will get better.”

I looked down at my lap. Wasn’t she curious about what was going on inside me? Wasn’t she worried it might be something serious? Nothing that hurts that bad can be nothing, can it?

I looked back at her. She looked bored and vaguely annoyed.

I was young. I didn’t know I deserved better care. Suddenly, my symptoms seemed trivial, and I felt ashamed of myself and my body.

But I’d been dieting since I was a kid. Maybe, I thought, she had a weight loss solution that would work better.

“How?” I asked.

“It doesn’t matter how, but you need to lose 100 pounds and you need to do it fast.”

“It doesn’t matter how I lose weight?” That didn’t sound right.

“Any weight loss method would be healthier than being that big.”

She walked out of the room. She hadn’t even touched me.

For years after that, I rarely went to a doctor.

Twelve years ago, after I lost over 150 pounds, I started to treat my body with care and take my health seriously. A doctor listened to me and discovered I had endometriosis, a condition that had gone undiagnosed for almost 20 years.

I’d like to think my experience of getting poor care because of a doctor’s weight bias is unique, but it’s very common.

A review of studies published in the journal Obesity Reviews in 2015 surveying empirical evidence across multiple disciplines showed that health care professionals’ negative feelings about fat bodies can lead to misdiagnosis and late or “missed” diagnoses, negatively impacting patient outcomes. Meanwhile, patients who face, or anticipate facing, fat phobia and weight bias from doctors may seek medical care less often, and when they do, they may be less likely to comply with doctors’ orders.

With obesity rates at an all-time high, weight bias in health care is poised to cause more damage—to patients, and to doctor-patient relationships—than ever.

“Some doctors are egregiously nasty and inappropriate with their larger patients,” says Scott Kahan, M.D., a physician on faculty at Johns Hopkins University. “A patient of mine once went to urgent care short of breath only to be told that it was because she had ‘too much fat on her chest.’ Later, at the emergency room, they discovered she had a pulmonary embolism and needed anticoagulants. She’s lucky to be alive. Medical professionals’ underlying belief systems, driven by our thin-obsessed, antifat culture, can and does make their interactions with patients with obesity less productive.”

As the problem of weight bias in health care has grown, so have resources to support those impacted by it. Women who’ve experienced weight bias in health care and in other contexts can complete the Weight Bias Reporting Form created by the Obesity Action Coalition. A committee reads and responds to submissions where appropriate, either by calling out bias, starting dialogues, or offering education.