Warning!! This novel may lead you to make rash and life-changing decisions!* *Probably don’t read if you fear you may be ripe for liberation. Or if you sometimes wee when you laugh… First there was Having It All, then there was Bridget Jones’ s Diary and I Don’t Know How She Does It. Now there is Teenage Punchbag. I’m Just A Teenage Punchbag is a laugh-out-loud, sob-on-the bus journey through the so-called life of a middle-aged woman.
Ciara is mother to three ungrateful, entitled teenagers, is married to steady Martin, a man with hairy udders, and is grieving for her mum who now lives in the wardrobe in a cardboard box from the crematorium. She finds solace in her anonymous blog, and in the daily chats she has with her mum’s ashes (often the best conversations she has all day.)
Despite the menopause, the invisibility of middle age and the daily self-esteem bashings, courtesy of her kids, Ciara manages to navigate the stormy waters of grief and family life – until her mask slips and she is cast out from the family bosom. She embarks on a mission to fulfil her mum’s dying wishes to have her remains sprinkled from the top of the Empire State Building, finding company, distraction and – ultimately – herself in the process. If motherhood is a job – who says you can’t resign?