So far I have resisted the temptation to succumb to mid-life body art. I reason that I will ‘do a Judy’ – Dench, naturally for there can be no other – and wait until I am in my 80’s before I allow my body to be used as a canvas. In my octogenarian period, I trust no-one will be saying, ‘you will only regret it when your skin starts to sag’.

Those who know me will appreciate that my skin does already sag (thanks for not saying this in my hearing), but by my 80’s it should have settled into maximum slack and my tattoo artist of choice will be able to grip my wattle to get good purchase with their ink gun.

By exercising such patience I will also have plenty of time to decide what my tattoo of choice will be. I want to regret rien when I do eventually start painting by numbers.

Because I have no tatts, most people believe I must be a body art vigilante, likely to burn down a tattoo parlour if I have a box of matches to hand. Students at school say that I can smell skin ink even when they believe that they have all evidence covered. I confess that I do have this super power, but it has been honed from upholding the school rules which stipulate that students – and staff – must not have their body art on display during school hours. I keep students and colleagues guessing by always wearing a polo neck jumper during the school day, and go wild during the holidays.

While my inner rebel is thus contained, I can secretly admire other people’s body art and make notes for my virtual Pinterest board; all this research will help when I come to make the final decision. I once told my children that there are certain tattoos that I think merit an appearance – one of them being an Ironman tattoo on a shapely calf. My son – although not adverse to body art – said this was an extreme way to remember the year/time of such a feat of endurance when – if I ever did manage to complete training for such an event – it would surely be etched onto my brain without need of a body stamp. (I should point out that I do not swim well and have a fear of bikes, so it was mere conjecture anyway).

In the meantime, as I dither over potential future body art, I hear that midlife piercing is currently ‘a thing’. This is something that I feel I can embrace immediately. I read that piercings are becoming a way for women to mark milestones such as divorce, empty nesting and milestone birthdays. Tick, tick, tick. I am relieved to find my tribe.

In the spirits of full disclosure, to date, I have resisted a belly piercing because:

• No-one wants to see this on a beach
• I wear Bridget Jones’ style big pants and I don’t want the elastic to snag.
• I do not wear crop tops so no-one would see it anyway.
• My muffin top would conceal a belly piercing
• I could get a nasty rash if the piercing rubbed against my jelly roll.
• I have an ‘innie’ not an ‘outie’ and I can not find any research to indicate which of these umbilical remnants showcase a piercing most effectively

In my research I discover that Luxury Piercings (Although capitalised, I am not quite sure what these are – top end Claire’s Accessories?) and Piercing Parties are now trending for my demographic. I feel tempted to cancel my upcoming Tupperware shindig and invite the girls round to stick the needle in instead.

At university, my one act of rebellion was to have a second piercing in my right ear lobe. My sister accompanied me to Debenhams on Oxford Street to get it done. I sang ‘We are Family’ to Sis on the underground, but she could not be persuaded to join me in this wanton waste of my student grant, therefore I cannot claim a precursor to a modern Piercing Party; nevertheless, I still look back on this day as a rite of passage. On days when I have enough verve to wave my hands in the air like I just don’t care (rare, because it risks spilling my coffee), I occasionally put a second earring back in my right lobe. Seriously. Sadly, no-one ever notices when I do this, but on these days I like to believe that I do have a bit more attitude – a bit more sass, a lot more swagger.

Then I read that there are a LOT of choices to make before I can press ahead with an additional piercing – or two. Unlike the Debenham days, there is now a full menu of piercing choices. More research needed before I turn my head into a colander. Namely:

• Will I want a septum or a helix?
• Will I want a dermal or a cuff?
• Can I be tempted to go all out for a diamond-encrusted belly button bar?
• Can I find an ‘authentic tattoo and piercing parlour’ locally – infact, what does authentic mean in this context?
• Will I regret choosing a Tash Helix over a Tash Hidden Rook and why does it sound like I am now playing a game of chess?
• Will it hurt?

I do quite like the idea of going to a Piercing Parlour with my daughter and choosing matching piercings from a menu, as if we are choosing celebratory cocktails. I think of booking somewhere but then realise that she has already got two ear lobes that are expensively and extensively punctuated.

I do not really want to do this piercing outing on my own – it might look a little desperate. When I look at all my friends to see who might be up for some companion hole punching I realise that I am VERY late to this party and feel very frumpy indeed. I also remember that when I feel run down, my three body piercings all come out in sympathy and get a little itchy and sore; I worry that if I have additional piercings, I will be rubbing my ears like a flea-ridden dog.

Since the size of my nose earned me the nickname of ‘Ski Jump’ at school, I do not intend to spotlight this part of my anatomy, so this rules out a septum ring – though with nostrils of this size, I could easily secrete a huge nose ring if I saw the Headteacher coming my way at school. A delicate diamond nose stud would also look ridiculously under proportioned on a conk this size, and if it is accompanied by that itchy piercing ‘thing,’ everyone will think I am picking my nose. Not a good look.

So I return to the drawing board. I have certainly had my eyebrows raised completing this research, and this comes in handy, because in breaking news, I have made an appointment to have my eyebrows tattooed next Thursday. I think this could be an eye opener. Fancy a Microblade Martini, Judy?