This week I found myself rooting for an unlikely heroine. The Catwoman. Remember Jocelyn Wildenstein, the late Upper East Side socialite who went under the knife so many times she earned the not-so-flattering nickname “The Bride of Wildenstein”? The woman whose plastic surgery addiction made Joan Rivers look downright sensible? The rich lady who conspicuously resembled her pet lynx? You know her. You love her. You’re fascinated by her. With a face both instantly recognizable and altered beyond