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Every time I see that movie poster, I can’t help but smirk. They got it all wrong—I should have been cast as Catwoman. Just look at me. I have the perfect blend of strength, agility, and sheer presence. Those actresses? They’re good, sure, but they don’t have what I have.

Imagine it: me in that sleek, black suit, muscles filling it out in all the right places, with a confidence that could make anyone weak in the knees. I wouldn’t need CGI or special effects to look powerful. My body, my muscles, my agility—they’d be all the “superpower” I’d need. One look, and you’d know I am Catwoman.

I see myself flipping from rooftop to rooftop, muscles rippling, moving with a grace that only comes from true strength. The leather, the claws, the smirk—I’d be untouchable. Villains would stand no chance, and even the heroes would think twice about coming near. I’d be the Catwoman that everyone talks about. The one who doesn’t just play the part but ownsit.

So every time I see that poster, I just think… Hollywood missed out. Because the real Catwoman? She’s standing right here.

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