Emer McLysaght: Crisis piercings and other classic signs you’re heading towards middle age

At least once a week I have a genuine urge to get something pierced. Nothing too outlandish, just an extra little gem on an ear or a nostril. My collection has swollen in recent years: my first nose ring since my teens, some holes in my ears anywhere but the lobes. The internet and various podcasts I listen to tell me it’s a midlife crisis phenomenon – the anti-lobe ear piercing. Particularly for women. We hit a certain age and then the tragus or the helix or various other folds of the ear start calling out to be punctured.

“Curated ears” became a big thing a couple of years ago. A piercing artist would examine your lobes, tragus, conch, helix – all the main lads of ear anatomy – and create a jewellery journey for you. Seven big needles and hundreds of euro later and you’re dancing around like Stevie Nicks barefoot in a cape. They even opened a selection of private piercing rooms in Brown Thomas. Curated noses are less common but a sure sign of a woman in the second act of life is a septum piercing – that ring that hangs down between the nostrils. I’ve considered one myself but just don’t know if I can devote myself once more to the care and attention required of a healing nose piercing.

Armchair psychology would suggest that the midlife piercing is an attempt to regain or hang on to youthful endeavours and aesthetics. I think it’s more nuanced than that. I think it’s a celebration of freedom from being judged. I’m at an age where my mother can definitely no longer get angry because I pierced or tattooed something or shaved half of my hair off. Society doesn’t really care what I look like, so I can shave, pierce or tattoo until the cows come home. I still feel largely like a child who doesn’t really know what they’re doing, but with the freedom of an adult who can do whatever I want.

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A friend’s seven-year-old recently got her ears pierced for the first time and is already agitating for her “second holes”. A second set of earrings is almost as much of a rite of passage as the first. Twelve feels like an appropriate yet arbitrary age for second holes. At least, I think I was 12 when I got mine.

My teen years were marked with attempts to pierce and colour whatever part of me I could. I arrived home with my first nose stud at around 15 and was of course told to remove it. I persevered for weeks though, until the hassle of taking it out and putting it back in again in school to avoid the beady eyes of the nuns became too troublesome and frankly unsanitary.

The jewellery rules at St Mary’s College, Naas were “one ring and/or small pair of earrings”. I remember it vividly because I tried to reason that if one didn’t wear any rings on their fingers then one should be allowed to wear two pairs of earrings. I had my nose pierced for the second time in the summer between fifth and sixth year. It was a large ring with a ball on it which my father quite rightly said made me look like a bull. The first morning of sixth year I couldn’t get the ring out and there was no way the nuns were going to stand for it. Dad had to get the pliers out. Is it any wonder I waited until I was 40 to go again?

Another hallmark of an Irish woman’s midlife stage? Walking the Camino. Nothing says regaining or retaining your sense of adventure and zest for life like walking the toenails off yourself in northern Spain with your three sisters, each more perimenopausal than the last. People do the Camino de Santiago for many reasons. To mark a crossroads, to heal from trauma or grief, to reconnect with themselves or loved ones or nature. What started out as a religious devotional trek has evolved for many into a path to enlightenment of a different kind.

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[ Walking the Camino: What drew my fellow peregrinos to this arduous 113km walk?Opens in new window ]

Then of course there are the other classic signs you’re heading towards middle age. Becoming increasingly drawn to the clothes in Marks and Spencer and saying things like “they actually have lovely stuff in Dunnes”. Getting a bob. Taking up rowing. Considering a half marathon. Inventing names and personalities for your plants. Worrying about your knees and hips. All of which are still cheaper and way less hassle than a convertible or an affair.