Why I Got a Nose Piercing at 39 (And Took It Out Three Months Later)

I’ll never forget the day I decided to forgo my usual Costco haul for a visit to the local piercing salon. Yeah, I’d thought about it for a while, and when asked, I told most people it was because I wanted one. But, this really wasn’t the whole truth. You see, when I got my nose pierced at 39, I was looking at 40 in the very near horizon and somewhere deep in my mostly feral millennial brain, I somehow became convinced that an adorable gold piercing shoved through my left nostril would somehow prove that I wasn’t getting old. Call it a trauma response….call it irrational Millennial Mayhem…call it what ever you’d like, but I will call it the truth.

I’ve always been a bit of a walking contradiction – a dichotomy of sorts, lol. I was always the “smart girl” borderline nerd growing up. You know the kind – the type A personality and bookworm on the Student Council that excelled in zero sports. The one who generally stayed out of trouble – except for liking the “bad boy” that stole her heart and “put a ring on it.” But underneath this lived a 90’s alternative rock and 2000’s rap loving girl with a super short pixie cut who collected piercings and eventually got a tattoo. I’ve always carried a feral energy – although many times it has been tucked neatly out of sight beneath my sensible blouse or scarf. I’ve always felt a deep aversion to being labeled and expected to fit into a neat little “box” of what the world says I’m supposed to be.

So, the closer 40 became, the more I found myself wondering where that edgy “middle-finger to the air” spirited version of me had gone. You know how it goes. One day you’re diving into a new hobby in hopes of “finding yourself” and the next you’re trying to juggle a full-time job with scheduling orthodontist visits, keeping up with housework, cooking all the things, trying so damn hard to be a rock-star wife and mom, and also be available for your parents when their speakers un-sync from Bluetooth and they can’t hear TV.

Honestly, I felt more like the manager of my own life and was seriously lacking in the main-character energy. Trying to survive the general chaos of adulting will do this to you, I suppose. So this my feral friends is why that tiny gold studded nostril piercing felt like the rebellion my heart was aching for. It was a 2mm <3mm at first> itty-bitty declaration that I was still there – the feral girlie that wants out of the box.

So, for about three months I loved it. Until I didn’t.

Y’all, I was RELIGIOUS about my piercing’s after-care and diligently cleaned it night and day. No piercing bump, no irritation, shortened stud backing – ALL THE THINGS. Even my piercer commented on its “phenomenal healing.” Then one day, I decided I didn’t actually need it anymore. It wasn’t because I was suddenly too old for it or that I was being judged for having it (although I did get plenty of side-eyed glances). It was because it had served its purpose for me. My very short-lived adorable nostril piercing reminded me that the girl who always liked tattoos and piercings was never really gone in the first place. Admittedly, she had buried herself in “all the things” – motherhood, marriage, career, etc. However, she was still there. I realized that I didn’t need a nose ring to convince myself that I am still a unique and interesting girlie. I still have mad love for adorable piercings and fun tattoos and will likely get more in the future, but I realized my nose piercing was a reminder that I’d forgotten who I was rather than a celebration of who I am.

It’s pretty funny to think that I never needed to rebel against aging because 40 was never the enemy. The real enemy was all the negative self-doubt and self-talk convincing me that becoming older meant I’d become less of myself. The truth is that I (like all of us) am becoming a new version of myself every day. The experiences of yesterday are shaping who I am today. Some days are filled with exciting adventure and others with soul-crushing heartbreak; none the less, all of the experiences filling our days are slowly shaping the new versions of ourselves we are becoming.

I’ve found peace in finally understanding that confidence at 40 is supposed to look different than it does at 20..or 30. When I was younger, confidence was about proving who I was. Now, at 40, it’s about knowing who I am. It’s about being comfortable in my own skin and being ok with being misunderstood or even not liked. It’s about finding my own truth.

So, the cute-as-a-2mm-button nose stud came and went; however, the feral spirit stayed (and maybe even slayed a little bit, lol).

If you'd like to see some of my current faves carrying me through 😅, please click the link below

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