
When Alexis’ parents forced her to marry Robert, she had no idea what she was getting herself into. Later, Alexis broke the one rule her husband gave her and entered the room he warned her about, unleashing secrets she wasn’t prepared for.
I couldn’t understand why my parents wanted me to get married before I found someone myself.
“Alexis,” my mother said, “Robert is a catch. He’s a wealthy man who will take care of you. You wouldn’t even have to work.”
I couldn’t refuse. My father had made it clear.
“You marry Robert, Alexis,” he said, puffing on his cigar. “Or you can figure out your own living arrangements.”
In a sense, Robert was my prince charming. Our family had a bakery, which was losing customers because we had no gluten-free options on the menu.
“We will continue to bake what we know,” my father insisted.
Our marriage was definitely an arranged one. Robert’s demeanor was cold, and he refused to let me get to know him properly. I don’t know how my father arranged our connection.
Our wedding was a spectacle of Robert’s affluence, nothing short of extravagant. Robert’s wedding planner had thought of everything.
My wedding dress was a custom piece that he commissioned for me. But even through our wedding planning, we barely spoke.
“I’m looking forward to being married,” he admitted one evening, a few days before the wedding.
“But I don’t know what I’m doing,” he added.
That was the closest Robert had gotten to letting me in.
Two days after our wedding, I moved into our new home.
“Come, I’ll show you around,” Robert said.
He took me around our home, a mansion boasting luxuries I’d never imagined before: sprawling golf courses, a shimmering swimming pool, and a fleet of staff at our beck and call.
“It’s beautiful,” I said when we got to the kitchen. “Everything is beautiful.”
“Now, Alexis, this house belongs to you too,” he declared with a hint of pride.
I smiled at the stranger standing in front of me. Maybe we were going to make something of our marriage.
“But one thing, Alexis,” he said. “There’s one rule. The attic. Never go in there.”
I nodded at Robert. I couldn’t fathom why I wouldn’t be allowed anywhere in the house. But I also recognized that I didn’t know my husband well enough yet. So, I had to obey.
A few days later, Robert went to a meeting, leaving me alone in our massive home.
Driven by curiosity stronger than any warning, I found myself ascending the stairs to the attic. My heart pounded with a mix of fear and excitement. I knew I didn’t have a lot of time.
A quick in and out, I thought to myself.
Pushing the door open, I was met with a sight that sent me to my knees, tears streaming down my face. I didn’t know why I was crying. I didn’t know why I felt confusion and relief at the same time.
The attic, dimly lit, seemed to be a vault of my husband’s hidden memories. Childhood toys lay scattered, each carrying untold stories. Old postcards and photographs of Robert’s life before me. Among the relics were letters from a young boy to his father, a soldier away at war.
“How dare you come in here? Now, I have to change the locks in my own home because my wife does not respect my requests?”
Robert’s face turned red with rage.
“I just want to understand,” I stammered. “I just want to know you, Robert.”
Slowly, his rage dissolved, and he seemed to see me as a companion in his world, instead of the intruder he had made me out to be.
“Alexis,” he said, “Come, let’s sit.”
Robert led me to the living room.
“My father was a stern man. He was a soldier and he believed in keeping emotions locked away. These are the only things I have of a time when I felt loved,” he confessed.
My heart caught on his every word as his voice broke.
What followed was a revelation of his soul. Stories of a lonely childhood, of a boy yearning for his father’s approval, unfolded in our home.
In those vulnerable moments, I didn’t see the distant, cold man I had married but a boy who had never stopped seeking love and acceptance. He just didn’t know how to go about it.
In those few hours, things changed. Robert started letting me in. And now, years later, our home is filled with the cries and laughter of our daughter, April.
Through our daughter, Robert healed. He healed for himself, and for our daughter.
We’ve packed away everything from the attic, so it is no longer a shrine to Robert’s past but is now my little reading nook.
A beach in the 70’s. Not one over weight body. My, how the food industry destroyed us.

The Transformation of Our Bodies and Diets
In the 1970s, a visit to the beach was a showcase of lean, active bodies. People of all ages enjoyed the sun, surf, and sand with a level of fitness that seemed effortless. Fast forward to today, and the scene has drastically changed. The prevalence of overweight and obese individuals has skyrocketed, painting a stark contrast to the svelte figures of the past. This shift prompts us to examine the role of the food industry in this dramatic transformation.

The 1970s: A Different Era of Eating
During the 70s, the typical diet was markedly different from what we see today. Meals were often home-cooked, with fresh ingredients forming the backbone of family dinners. Processed foods were available but not ubiquitous. Fast food chains were fewer, and eating out was considered a treat rather than a regular occurrence. Portion sizes were smaller, and sugary snacks were less prevalent in households.
Physical activity also played a significant role in the lives of people in the 70s. Without the convenience of digital entertainment, children and adults alike spent more time outdoors, engaging in physical activities. Walking, cycling, and participating in sports were common pastimes.
The Rise of Processed Foods
The landscape began to change with the rise of processed foods and fast food chains in the late 20th century. The food industry, driven by profit, began to prioritize convenience and shelf-life over nutritional value. High-fructose corn syrup, hydrogenated oils, and an array of artificial additives became staples in many foods. These ingredients made food cheaper and more accessible but also less healthy.
Marketing strategies targeted at children and busy adults further entrenched these unhealthy eating habits. Fast food advertisements promised quick, tasty meals at low prices, and snack companies created products that were hard to resist due to their high sugar and salt content. This aggressive marketing, combined with the convenience of ready-made meals, led to a significant increase in the consumption of unhealthy foods.
The Impact on Public Health
The consequences of these changes in diet have been profound. Rates of obesity have soared, bringing with them a host of health problems, including diabetes, heart disease, and various forms of cancer. According to the World Health Organization, worldwide obesity has nearly tripled since 1975. In many countries, the number of overweight children and adolescents has increased tenfold over the same period.
The food industry’s influence extends beyond what we eat to how we perceive food. Portion sizes have increased dramatically, and the notion of what constitutes a normal serving has become distorted. Additionally, the emphasis on convenience has led to a decline in cooking skills, with many people relying heavily on pre-packaged meals and fast food.
Moving Towards a Healthier Future
Addressing this issue requires a multifaceted approach. Public awareness campaigns can educate people about the dangers of processed foods and the benefits of a balanced diet. Governments can implement policies to regulate the marketing of unhealthy foods, particularly to children, and promote healthier options. Schools can play a crucial role by providing nutritious meals and incorporating nutrition education into their curricula.
On an individual level, making a conscious effort to prepare meals from fresh ingredients, controlling portion sizes, and increasing physical activity can help counteract the damage done by the food industry. Embracing a lifestyle reminiscent of the 70s, where home-cooked meals and outdoor activities were the norm, can pave the way towards a healthier society.
Leave a Reply