According to the Internet, there must be a lot of skinny, wrinkleless women walking around Lawrence … well, at least a couple of them. On successive days ads popped up on my computer monitor from two women who proudly announced they are average moms in Lawrence, Kan., who solved their respective problems of facial lines and weight gain.

OK, it could be that the woman who used two products to miraculously dissolve her wrinkles did so by gaining a ton of weight, and it also could be that the woman who lost a bunch of weight now has furrows in her face deep enough to grow corn. The ads don’t say, but I prefer to think that these two perfect women are just that, perfectly wrinkle- and fat-free. I keep looking for them in local grocery or department stores, and I’m sure I’ll know ’em when I see ’em because one will be stocking up on low-fat foods, and the other will be buying cute clothes in size 2.

I’m glad for them, but I wonder about the odds of two of our city’s fairer sex making such earth-shattering discoveries and then sharing them on the World Wide Web. Sure, it is possible they are doing it out of the goodness of their hearts, but I suspect there’s money in it for someone … but who?

Is there a pied piper of fitness and beauty canvassing Lawrence for women who have achieved facial smoothness and physical sveltness and leading them down the path of 15-minute fame? Or perhaps I missed the flier announcing a seminar encouraging Lawrence women to market their amazing discoveries on the Internet. If so, it wouldn’t have helped, because I can’t think of anything I’ve done that other women would want to emulate. Who’d respond to an ad that proclaims “I can teach you how to fall off a Wii balance board without getting hurt!”? (Too bad I can’t say the same for the table and lamp.) Or an ad that promises responders they will “learn how to get that dream job that pays zip!”

Frankly, those are two of my best talents. Sister Bette recently told me that I would be a millionaire if I figured out how to get paid — instead of merely racking up volunteer hours — for the work I’m doing. And husband Ray has long claimed that I never saw a job which paid nothing that I didn’t like. I’m not alone. Friend Clenece says she panics if she doesn’t have a “do good” activity marked on her calendar, and friend Rob says that if his busy wife had spent half the time promoting her business that she gave gratis to civic and charitable organizations, they’d be filthy rich.

But is amassing piles of money the answer to a happy life, or is it an unlined face or skinny bod? Beats me, but it might be fun to find out. Perhaps the two Lawrence ladies who are sharing their long-sought-after perfection with Internet users who are still seeking that ideal will tell me. Surely there’s some money in it for them. I’m thinking that someday I’ll turn on my computer and find that one — or both — of them will be advertising: “I got rich by sharing my amazing discovery on the Internet. So can you!”

So far I haven’t seen any miraculous discoveries on the Internet from Lawrence guys. Why is that? Are guys more shy about exploiting their discoveries? Nah! I suspect that one day an ad will pop up on my monitor from a Lawrence guy pitching something. I’ve suggested to Ray that he might start thinking about some amazing discovery he can make and market. And I know just what he needs to invent, because if women obsess about wrinkles and weight, there’s one thing that men would spend a fortune to achieve: a full head of hair. I’ll write the ad for him: Average dad from Lawrence, Kan., discovers a cure for baldness!

— Marsha Henry Goff is a freelance writer in Lawrence whose latest book is “Human Nature Calls.”