Or, while going through the motions of parenthood, am I missing out on what I'm really supposed to be doing? Am I really supposed to be out fighting poverty, homelessness, illiteracy and the rapid proliferation of celebrity nicknames?

Or, like Brangelina, should I be doing it all?

Should I use my stellar beauty and strong sense of altruism to go out and save the world, all while raising my many children and staying ever so humble and grounded?

Yes, this is it! This is my life's purpose! Finally, a use for my natural born attributes! No longer will I waste what I was blessed with on simple parenting. I am going to save the world—but first I have to shower.

Filled with a sense of urgency fueled by my new purpose, I schlep up to shower, stopping only to gaze at myself in the mirror for a moment with the intention of admiring my beauty. It is then that my dreams are crushed and the sense of purpose eliminated from my thoughts. The messy root laden hair and puffy, baggy eyes are not what I had envisioned. Instead they are tired and somewhat crazy, definitely not capable of bringing peace and happiness to the masses.

As I gaze at myself in the mirror, wondering how to restore my natural beauty so that I can go out and solve the problems of humankind, something traumatic, devastating and life changing occurs: I see a wrinkle.

"A wrinkle?" You might say, "So what? They're a natural part of aging."

And that, my friend, is the problem. I am aging. I am no longer a spring chicken, ready and capable of taking on the world. Instead I am rapidly approaching 30, then 40, then 50 and before you know it I'll be in a home, having never accomplished anything but feeding my children possibly toxic foods while poisoning their brains with countless hours of television .

Yes, the finding of my first wrinkle is an end of an era for me. No longer can I walk around with the confidence of youth, thinking of all the things that I can accomplish...later.

No more can I take for granted gravity and its torturous, evil and highly unfair attacks on a female form. I must go out and savor my last moments of youth before they disappear forever. I cannot waste my last moments trying to save the world, I must save myself from my unfair destiny!

I must go now. I must pack up my children and rush to the store for anti-wrinkle cream. Maybe with this magical substance I can hold on to my escaping youth long enough to accomplish something important, something real, something…at all.

I will leave you now, dear reader, with a plea. Don't waste your youth by having endless amounts of children for they age you more rapidly than anything in the world. They cause time to fly by in such a rapid progression that you too might wake one day to find that you are suddenly old.

Don't be fooled by the contentedness that comes from watching your children grow and prosper! Don't take it one day at a time. Make it a fight against one wrinkle at a time! Focus only on these betrayers of youth and yourself and, if you're lucky, you will be able to save some youth. From there you may possibly be able to spare a little time to help others, Brangelina style.