I don't scar easily, but I have a few. There are three tiny scars on the fingers of my right hand from incompetent wart removals when I was a kid. On the back of my left hand, there's a burn scar from a hot glue gun. There's a little round scar on my calf from a skin biopsy a few years ago. My favorite scars are the patchy white ones on my knees. I was running with my dogs in the park when a tiny chihuahua charged us. My younger dog freaked out and jumped back...putting him right in front of my feet. (I should point out here that my dog outweighed the chihuahua by about a factor of 6. He is not a paragon of bravery.) I tripped over him and fell on the gravel path, tearing up both my knees. I was still several miles from my car, so I finished the run with blood running down my legs and felt sort of badass. Endorphins are a hell of a drug.
I have a scar on my right knee from riding my bicycle on gravel, trying to bike without holding the handlebars, and falling on it. It's not raised anymore (it used to be really raised) but the line and discoloration is easy to see. I have one almost on the crook of my left elbow from a fight I got into with my brother when I was 13 or so (he was 11) and he scratched me. To this day he denies he left this scar, that it was from a loose screw on a rollercoaster when we were younger, but both mom and I remember the fight and how FURIOUS she was about it and the "damaged enough to leave a scar". It's been about eleven years, so it isn't really noticeable when I tan. I have a recent one on my right hand from two years ago, a few days before New Years. I was kind of camping with my cousins and my brother, and we decided to hike upstream a stream. We couldn't go through the bank - the forest was too dense - so we went up the stream itself. I managed the rocky tropical stream perfectly fine, and when we reached the spot half an hour later, I sat down, and my hand slipped and I cut the base of my palm on a rock. It wasn't serious or even painful, and is just a faint straight line now. My brother was a lot more worried than I was! Inside forearm, two dots - one raised and one not - from my younger dog, a year ago. He got into his first fight with another dog in the park he normally got along with and I threw myself in to grab him since the leashes were tangled. I think he bit me, not the other dog, by mistake, and it didn't break skin and looked like just a really bad bruise, but the next few days suddenly it looked like I had gotten punctured. The same situation happened a few months ago, and I got bit again, but this time there is no scar, beats me. Sole of the left foot - a jagged scar from when I stepped on a piece of glass in a pool at a birthday party at the friend's house. It didn't get properly cleaned before it closed (long story), and six months later my foot started hurting again because the centimeter long glass had migrated upwards into my foot and started cutting into my tendon, and I ended up needing surgery to getting it out.
*squints* *tilts head* Jesse are you a Philadelphian? <3 I have quite a few but I think they're all mostly faded away at this point. I have several from chicken pox cause the doctor swore they were bug bites and I scratched at them. I have one on my thumb from putting a knife through that flap of skin between my thumb and hand. There used to be one on my elbow from where I fell at the edge of a basketball court. The ones that get me are where I expected there to be a scar and I never got one.
I've got a really nice bumpy one on one of my fingers from a locker catch in high school (lockers are dangerous, kids) A straight scar down my shin (my bro & I were climbing on the concrete foundation for an addition to the house using the rebar spikes as footholds & I slipped) Appendectomy laparoscopy scars (my bellybutton is weird because of it but I was able to get a bellybutton ring anyway so rock on) And scars across my knuckles from not wrapping my hands when on the punching bag as a kid. Also, you know, other ones, but yeah.
I forgot, I have a weird brown/red spot on my middle finger of my left hand. I pinched it somehow forever ago, blood pooled in that spot, and literally just... never went away. Like it is the weirdest thing. Only in the last few years did it actually turn brown.
I have 3 round, puckered-ish scars on my chest from the heart cathethers while I was in chemo. I grew up with my parents telling me that when my puberty was finished, I could get plastic surgery to remove them. But I don't want to. They're such a precious testimony to my survival. I'm so proud that people can see them, touch them. I didn't tattoo on top of them, but I did tattoo above them. Five beautiful red roses. Everyone can see and love their unfurling petals, full of life and color - but I like to remember that the scars are the secret roots, and the pain and death are what enriches the soil that keeps me in bloom.
I have a lovely big obvious white ovalish one precisely on the bridge of my nose from when I was... uh... young... somewhere in the tween/young teen range, and I was playing with a couple of other kids, who were siblings, on a roughly concreted farmyard... the older sibling was pulling his younger sister along on a wheeled horse toy and I was pushing, and he was going too fast and I tried to yell to him to slow down and just as I did I faceplanted right onto the concrete. My glasses ended up with a big scratch on one lense, so they probably protected my eye from a nasty injury... but it was the bridge of them that took a big old chunk out of my nose, so I'm not sure if they're the hero or the villain of the piece. xP You can't usually see it if i'm wearing my glasses but i feel it's at least sort of obvious if I'm not. I did have a scar from where I managed to scrape my knee open horribly with my own toenail by crossing my legs wrong, but I think it's been gone for a while. Not sure if the burn scars from wapping my arms on baking trays/oven trays are still there, I don't think they are. I have a few scattered ones including two fairly obvious ones on my wrist and the top of my thigh from a couple of years ago when my skinpicking habit caused a scab to get a nasty-ass staph infection that then spread to others and required antibiotics. I regard those with some sadness. Still hasn't stopped me skinpicking though. =/
I used to have a pretty great scar on the inside of my left elbow from when I walked into a street sign in Poland like eight years ago, but the last signs of it faded away a few months ago. Which is disappointing because it was like a constant reminder to pay attention to where I'm going. As I recall, it was on our way to get hot chocolate and I was told to 'suck it up' and we continued towards hot chocolate. I don't think it was Wedel; I think it was some local place and it was excellent hot chocolate but I was hurt and angry at the world.
I have a line across my forehead where the doctors patched up the loser of the fight between my head and a marble floor. I try to do my anger-stimming in softer places now.
What is it with Colombia? Pretty much everybody I've met or talked to who lived there as a kid was bullied in school, myself included. >:/
Hahaha, I wouldn't know @Raire ! I kind of understand my situation, as I was a gangly pale kid with glasses that couldn't speak a word of spanish in a school where barely anybody could speak english. Even worse, I was put two classes ahead because apparently my level was so high. The only ones who could speak proper English were the popular kids and well... Dog eat dog and all that. The bullying stopped the moment I could speak and curse fluently enough in Spanish for the other children to realise that I understood what they were talking about, and from that moment on I was left alone. Funnily enough a lot of the children made a huge show when I left, crying and hugging... I'm not savvy enough to judge if it was because they would really miss me, or if it was just some show. I was bullied in a very physical manner and it may sound strange to say, but it doesn't hurt as much as being bullied in a mental manner, which is what happened to me when I lived in Venezuela and attended an American school. In fact, I remember Colombia with a lot of fondness and I am hoping to go back there some time. :) It's one of the most beautiful and fascinating countries I've ever lived in!
So it turns out what I thought was one scar on my left knee is actually three scars. Huh. (One line scar, which I remember, and two roundish ones which I do not remember, but considering how often I faceplanted....) That time I grabbed a hot rack from the oven because it was tilting and I forgot that I wasn't wearing a protective glove on the other hand let me with burns, but they healed fine. The fine y-shaped one on my left middle finger I got when I accidentally put my hand where a lot of thin broken glass was is gone, too. Damn, I liked that one. (I heal really well in that regard)
I have a scar in the middle of my forehead. Apparently I hit my head on stone flowerbed border when I was two. I don't remember getting it. Then there's a tiny raised white stripe near the crook of my elbow from the worst blood test ever done on me (I think it was for coagulation or something), a larger one where I got a possibly dangerous mole removed from a rather awkward location and the probably-vaccination scars on my arm. The last ones look like a crescent made of small holes, they're really neat. I also have two reddish smooth scars on my right leg. The knee happened when I was skipping and fell flat on the asphalt. The one on my heel happened back during a dance festival. The festival preparations were like a week long and took place in rather dusty stadiums in the middle of summer. Shoes kind of wore holes in my heels by the end of the week, no matter how hard I plastered them. Never got the bloodstains out of shoes, either.
The only scars I had were seriously embaressing. I had a big one on my ankle, but it's disappeared now. When I was younger, the girl I had a massive crush on wanted me to go to the mall with her. So, I decided that meant I had to shave my legs. I didn't know how to shave my legs. I sliced my ankle open, put a bunch of bandages on it and went to the mall. And then I got back home, found out it was still bleeding, and passed the fuck out in front of my parents and my crush. Yeaaaaaah. There was a tiny one on the back of my upper arm from where I sliced myself on a piece of plastic, but idk if it's still there. And then there's my back. Which is pretty fucked up looking since I constantly scratch at it and have sharp nails.
I have tons and tons of little scars all over my right arm and right leg especially, though there are some on the left side too- they're all of picking at little scratches from this or that, and by now most of them have faded so they're at least a little less obvious now. There's one or two weird ones on my actual torso also, that I've got no clue about- they're sort of vaguely circular, and no bigger than a quarter inch wide. Also have a neat one on my left ankle that's about an inch long that was from my parent's old metal bed post. That thing cut me so many times as a child, I'm amazed I only have the one scar from it. I've got one from a dog bite a couple years ago that ended up much less impressive than I was hoping- it's just a little pinky nail sized tan mark on my left arm. My favorite scar is definitely the one that's right above my left eyebrow- I tripped and cut it on a strip of barbed wire when I was maybe ten. It still looks neat, very white and slightly raised- it's maybe an inch long, but probably a little shorter.
I've got a vertical scar on my right eyebrow where the cat attacked me as a toddler (because I was being a little shit, very deserved) and a circular pox scar on my left jawline. There's a shiny, dipped scar on my right leg just below the knee, from where I stood on the wedge end of a sharp stick of kindling, which flew up and stabbed me in the leg. There's the bulging triangular scar on my left pinky - I got that by getting my finger knocked between two bowls when someone sent a third up the channel - it didn't hurt at all and I didn't even notice that the blood was dripping off my elbow as I hefted up the ball and got ready to bowl. Hurt like a fucker once I did notice that I had split open my finger like a sausage in a hot pan. It's the closest I've ever come to passing out (the blood was horrendous, it just wouldn't stop). It would probably have healed better if the doctor had stitched it up, but she stuck a paper stitch on and the flesh underneath bulged out something chronic what with the bruising. I tend to rub it with my thumb unconsciously as a comfort thing, which is kind of weird because touching it makes me feel a little squeamish. I punched out a lovely rectangle of flesh on my knuckle a couple of years ago when the half-tang knife I was using split apart during use. That was at home and it was the shank of the knife, not the blade, which did the damage. Without exception all the cuts received at work as a butcher healed without scarring, even the one which made me a bit loopy through blood loss.
I've got a few little dot scars on my fingers from hot solder dripping on them while I was sweating pipes. And a little crescent moon scar on my forearm from when, right after I finished sweating a pipe, I knocked my arm against the still-hot tip of the torch.
I got a pocketknife for my 16th birthday; I was using it on I think a corn husk? The green inedible bit that attaches it to the stalk? Anyway, I had it open and in use when my brother bumped into me and it nicked my thumbnail pretty good. There was a little divot there for literally years until the keratin filled it back in, and if you run your finger over the spot it still feels uneven. There's also a very very thin one on my right ear where I had a graft installed to try to fix the little hearing-bones in there (it didn't work). In the realm of Everyone Else Has More Interesting Stories Than Me, Spoiler: my family just clearly should not be allowed around sharp objects. My mom has a wicked one on her upper thigh where she landed on a chainsaw. She was helping my dad cut down a smallish tree in our backyard, trying to guide it to land not on the garden, but it fell weird and she went with it. Luckily my dad took his finger off the chainsaw trigger and pulled away instead of up, so she got introduced to morphine instead of prosthesis. (I was sitting with her while my dad went to meet the ambulance & she was completely loopy, showing me a splinter she got when she fell. "[Nochi], look, I hurt my finger," followed by hysterical laughter.) Years after that, my dad was using a log splitter and got his finger in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was literally the very very tip of his middle finger on his left hand, and it wasn't cut so much as it was...mashed. The fingernail never grew back right and the finger looks weird and squared-off now, but that's really about it. Apparently the antibiotic shot they gave him at the hospital hurt worse than the actual event.
I got my first scar when I was two and a half: Spoiler: Skin Graft Story - ew Although there had been a lot of work on skin grafting during the Second World War, actual knowledge of how and why things worked or didn't still wasn't all that great. So, mum pours out a cup of tea and I reach up and grab at the saucer that I can see just visible over the edge of the counter. Of course it tips the hot water over me and soaks through my clothes and burns my chest and shoulder. I don't remember any of this, it's all what I was told long ago. Anyway, the surgeons scraped skin from the inside of my thigh and stuck it on to my chest. I now have this lovely big foot-shaped scar there. Round the edge it's like a rather low worn down mountain range and inside is like a slightly crumpled and then flattened handkerchief. The skin doesn't tan in the sun and will occasionally grow a hair or two!
