Further evidence:
Once when I was around 6 years old I was inanely spazzing out in my room (as was my hobby at that age,) singing the Popeye song and throwing random punches at assorted things. Stuffed animals, my reflection, the desk chair, and finally the tiny crack in the side window.
A six-year-old slip of a gal putting her fist through a window and standing there shocked, without a scratch on her?
Popeye song. BELIEVE IT.
(BTW…I was under the impression to be a superhero you had to be good-looking. Popeye is sort of a dog.)